


Together In Paris

by jenstraflintlocked



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenstraflintlocked/pseuds/jenstraflintlocked
Summary: After the stabbing, Eve remains in Paris, not wanting to face what awaits at her home and wanting Villanelle to find her





	1. what do you do when you fall far from help

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic outside the Doctor Who fandom in a LONG while I don't think I've got a grasp on these two just yet so forgive any ooc-ness I will probably edit as I write more

_“Where?”_

The old lady merely shrugged to indicate she didn’t know where Villanelle would go, only that she had run out. Eve thought quickly. To a bunker? A safe house? The doctors? A hospital? Was Villanelle protected that much she could do so? Eve’s first instinct was to run after Villanelle but running after someone who was bleeding from a stab wound, with hands covered in blood, would most likely end in her arrest.

The old lady stared at her some more, as if awaiting orders. It occurred to Eve that standing in the middle of a trashed flat with blood-stained bed covers would also lead to some questions, and in a language she could not speak.

“I had better report back to my superiors.” Eve nodded to the old lady. She scrambled for her purse and coat, washing her hands swiftly in the kitchen sink, grabbing the knife from the floor as an afterthought. The old lady nodded back as she watched these preparations and then disappeared. “Text me if she comes back here!” Eve called after her and received some indistinct answer in French. With one last sweeping gaze around the flat, she followed the old lady out. She stomped back into the flat two minutes later to grab her scarf. Even if Villanelle had been wearing it, even if her relationship with Niko was definitively over, she wanted her _scarf_ back. It was hers.

She tried to look calm and composed as she walked back to the shabby hotel she’d managed to book into. The taste of champagne, the sound of smashed glass, the scent of Villanelle, the sight of blood, the memory of a caress…Eve’s imagination kept on supplying all the ways it could’ve gone, if she hadn’t picked up the knife as well. She might’ve straddled her in far different circumstances than trying to keep warm blood in a body. Eve snorted at herself. It was ridiculous to think about that. And yet…

 _“I really liked you_ ”

Strange words to say after getting stabbed, odd that it was the first thought to form, even before _“it hurts”_. The look of betrayal that had shaken Eve. She contemplated the possibility that Villanelle had been being sincere with her and wondered if she should try to find Villanelle. But the young woman had been difficult enough to find the first time, and now she had nothing to go on, no sources to tap, no co-workers to look stuff up and someone who was injured was not about to pull off a professional hit.

She sidled through the front door, sighing in relief when she saw there was no-one else around and climbed the three flights to her room. Her bag and jacket were thrown onto the threadbare armchair. With a groan, Eve flopped backwards onto the bed, ignoring how the springs jangled, how different it was. Her imagination was still playing a reel of different scenarios. She could still be led on that other, softer bed right now…

What she was meant to be doing was going home, to see Niko, to see if she’d crossed one to many lines, to see Elena, who would now also be jobless of course, the thought caused a flood of guilt. And a second pang of guilt at the fact she felt worse about Elena losing a job than she did about her marriage possibly being over. She debated ringing but that would cause questions. Elena would want to know if they were going to Paris, or, after berating Eve for not taking her along as well, if the lead had led to anything. What would she even tell her? “Yes, I tracked her down, trashed her apartment, drank her champagne then when she turned up, I lulled her into a false sense of security and stabbed her as she was about to kiss me.”

Eve chuckled as she played that sentence out in her head. It was a brief moment of amusement. Whether she was going on a Villanelle hunt or going home, she couldn’t remain in Paris indefinitely. Money would run out. She didn’t know anything beyond basic phrases in French. And yet, she wanted to stay here. Villanelle would be somewhere in the city. She’d come close to a resolution with Villanelle, but apparently Villanelle dead wasn’t the resolution she wanted, which begged the question, what did she want? To return home would feel like running away.

As she led there, Eve thought she’d cry. After all the tension and stress and shock, crying might’ve been a good thing. Instead there was numbness. _Is this what she feels? After she kills someone? Have I killed her?_ She should’ve run after her. But this was Villanelle’s home ground, she would know every back alley, every place to go, to hide. And, having just been stabbed by her, Eve was probably the last person Villanelle wanted to see right now.

Eve reviewed that thought. No. Villanelle probably _really_ wanted to see Eve, but not to talk to her or sort anything out.

 _Oh. She’s…never going to…_ It felt wrong, a betrayal of Bill, of all Villanelle’s victims but the thought that Villanelle wouldn’t want anything to do with her any more, apart from to kill her, left Eve feeling strangely untethered. The obsession that had carried her through the tedium of her work, and then, when the suspicion had become reality, from disaster to further disaster.

She slept. Uneasily. The knife still in her pocket. Not that she wanted to stab Villanelle again. Or anyone. She woke, surprised she didn’t have nightmares about the blood. But then she hadn’t had nightmares about Kasia, and the blood gushing from the throat. Or Bill. Which she thought she would have. Or Frank. Which she hadn’t been surprised at.

She left the hotel the next day, having successfully rented a basement Airbnb apartment, which although not cheaper, would allow her the use of a kitchen. She wanted to stay for a few days, might as well have a holiday, this was Paris after all. A few more days of respite before home life called. If home life did call. She tried to think about who would call. Niko’s friends had become her friends, sort of. They’d probably swiftly revert to just being his friends now. There was Bill. But he was dead. And Elena. “Huh.” Eve muttered. She thought she’d had more than that.

Despite now having a kitchen, she felt too exhausted to cook and got take-out from a local curry place. She wondered if Villanelle had ever gotten curry from there. She ended up gazing at a lot of things and wondering if Villanelle had seen them too. _God I’m acting like a lovesick puppy._ Trying to scrub Villanelle from her mind for two minutes, she signed into her Netflix account. Started three movies, couldn’t finish any of them, ended up wondering what type of movies Villanelle liked, what she would’ve watched. What they would’ve watched together. She fell asleep on the small uncomfortable sofa, to the thought that she really needed to stop thinking about Villanelle so much.

Her phone buzzed and woke her up. She scrambled to unlock it, her old 1234 pin still unchanged. But it was not a message from Villanelle (why did she even think that would be it?), but a voicemail from Elena, asking once more for details, how Kenny had returned and told her all that had happened in Russia. “Where are you? What the hell is happening?? Call me!” The message ended.

Eve had no explanation for Elena. Carolyn would be back in the UK too by now, with Konstantin dead there would be no reason to stay in Russia. She hoped Carolyn would give Elena another job. Then again, if Elena knew all that Kenny now knew, but Kenny had returned too, back to the fold, back to Carolyn. Well she was his mother.

 _“Your actions are your own. What do you want to do?”_ Carolyn’s words came back to her.

“I want to find her.” Eve muttered out loud, as she headed for the shower. She’d told Elena she wanted to kill Villanelle, and that had been the driving thought behind the knife thrust. But now? Forgiveness? Understanding? She just wanted to find Villanelle. She always had. “The joy is in the chase.” Eve told her reflection as she brushed her hair.

She stayed in Paris for two weeks. No-one disturbed her, she went out only to shop for food. Neither the 12, nor MI6, nor Villanelle or anyone seemed to want to track her down, which she found strangely disappointing. Not that she wanted to be found by some international crime ring or a dubious intelligence agency or an assassin, but she _had_ stabbed someone. Surely that was worth a little interest.

Elena had only called once more, asking her if she’d gone to Paris, asking if it was after Villanelle, and asking if she was completely insane to throw away everything? It was the wording, along with the recollection of Carolyn’s words, that made Eve realise, as much as she’d blamed Villanelle for ruining her life, for the losses she’d suffered, her actions had been her own.

As much as she’d offered Villanelle a way out, _“Come with me…_ ”, so she’d been offered multiple times.

“Don’t make this a thing.”

“You could be in a trouble, if I was a serious man.”

“I don’t think you should speak to me like that right now Eve.”

“Is it safe?”

“Don’t go.”

“Return to England.”

She’d ignored all warnings, disregarded all orders. All to follow Villanelle. Which was why she was still in Paris. If she was going to go home now, then what was the point of all the rest? She was going to see this through to the end. Whatever that was. That and she doubted she’d be able to sleep at night for the rest of her life, that smug little smile, that shoulder shimmy, _“I really liked you”_ it would all haunt her dreams, even if she didn’t have nightmares about blood. Add in the fact that she’d never be able to relax, never be able to be sure that Villanelle wouldn’t come and kill her. No. She had to wait, at least until the money ran out.

She started another movie, still unable to settle. She felt restless, like she was waiting for an important interview. Was she making it easy or hard, by remaining in Paris? She couldn’t tell. England felt like a tsunami coming for her. Besides, people could complicate it, back home. If Elena or Nico or Kenny or even Carolyn got in the way of Villanelle coming after her, and they were hurt (or, a secret little voice piped up, if they stopped Villanelle coming after her in the first place…)

She drifted off to sleep once more, convinced more than ever that this was the right course of action. She woke up with a crick in her neck and bleary eyes to find Villanelle sitting on the pouffe in front of the sofa, watching her, and pointing a gun at her.

“Oh.” Eve croaked, shuffling herself upright. _At last_.

“Fairly easy to track you down.” Villanelle shrugged. She looked pale, was still wearing the same black jeans and boots, but a different jumper that looked as though it’d been bought from a charity shop. More likely stolen from somewhere. Like a washing line. The bruises and welts on her face had faded but not healed.

“What time is it?” Eve looked up through the window to see it was still dark.

“Coming up past midnight.” Villanelle didn’t seem to look at anything.

“Hm. You want some food? I don’t have anything but left-over take-out though.” Eve went to get up. After all the restless tension of the past few weeks, she felt suddenly at ease, as if there wasn’t a trained assassin pointing a gun at her. As if a friend had just come around for dinner, not exactly unplanned but without warning. Perhaps that’s what stabbing someone did for you. Or losing so much.

“Wow.” Villanelle hissed in a breath between her teeth. “Shame your husband isn’t here. I could make him cook for us.”

“Ha.” Eve gave a hollow laugh and flopped back down on the sofa. “I don’t think he’s my husband anymore.”

“Are you just saying that because you’re afraid I’ll cut off his dick?” Villanelle smiled humourlessly.

“No.” Eve shook her head. “No. I think for real.”

“Ahh. So. I really ruined your life huh. Hey! I think it’s fair. You ruined mine too.”

“What? I did not!”

“Did so! I had everything I wanted. Cool stuff, fun job. Now, my flat is trashed, I can’t go back there anyway because I think my job wants me dead or locked up somewhere, and all my nice things are back in the flat. Which, did I mention, _someone_ trashed.”

“Oh please. Like you couldn’t get a cleaner in there in a second.” Eve scoffed.

“Hey! I clean my own flat.”

That stopped Eve’s thought process in her tracks. “Oh! I would’ve thought…”

“Oh no. I’m not like you. I don’t have a live-in carer, to cook for me and clean for me and wash my dishes.”

“Someone to watch movies with.” Eve remembered, back in the seeming dim and distant past, snuggling up with Niko to watch some…Western or other. She hadn’t been concentrating. The only indication that Eve had landed a blow was a small twitch in Villanelle’s jaw. “So what? You want to watch a movie with me?” Eve indicated the abandoned Netflix.

“Netflix and chill?” Villanelle grinned, shimmying her shoulders. “No.” she went completely still again, deadpan face, gun pointed sharply. She studied Eve for a moment. “You’re disappointed.” Her mouth fell open in mock shock. “You’re actually disappointed.”

“Hey. I just…”

“You stabbed me! Remember? The last time we got a little too cosy? I mean…” Villanelle scoffed. “You could’ve just said no. I would’ve stopped.” Villanelle looked awkward for a second. “I don’t like being touched without permission.”

Eve found those brief seconds of awkwardness endearing. They were almost emotions, she felt. As if a feeling existed, but not connected to a place where it could be felt, resulting in small instances where a guard was dropped. When Villanelle had smiled at her, after turning, back in her flat. She’d made a joke afterwards, but she’d still sat down, still listened, leaning in as Eve gushed about her. Not in an egotistic way either, just listening.

“Or stabbed without permission.”

Then again, she was _such_ a prick. Eve rolled her eyes, gazing at the ceiling.

“Yes! Okay. I stabbed you. You did kill my best friend.”

“He was following me! What do you expect me to do?” Villanelle protested, sounding injured.

“Oh ho! Don’t give me that crap. You could’ve lost him easily. In that club? It’s not like he was some world class spy.” Eve jerked to her feet. Villanelle followed, keeping the gun trained. Her eyes were wary again now. No jokes, just watching, with a flicker of anger…and pain. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.” There was the bite of pain in Villanelle’s voice and she sat back down again, wincing. “I have been killing people a long time and no-one got me like you did. Congratulations.” She said coldly, the gun wavering slightly. “Sit down. I don’t like people towering above me. It’s rude.”

Eve sat down. After all, Villanelle had, when Eve had asked her.

“I was stupid. Let you get close. You…” there were tears in Villanelle’s eyes, but Eve knew better than to trust that. “You planned it didn’t you, all of it, what you said. It was all just a ruse. Just to get me to lower my guard so you could…”

“No! No.” Eve protested, even if they were crocodile tears, the accusation stung. “I meant it. Every word. Why do you think I stayed in Paris?”

“You like the city?”

“No! I’m going broke, I can’t speak the language. Why do you think I stayed in Paris?”

“You’re stupid? Go home Eve.” Villanelle drawled.

“I don’t have one anymore!”

“And you think you can make one here? What you want to settle down with me?” Villanelle mocked her.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Eve shouted.

“I don’t know what I want!” Villanelle threw her hands in the air. “I know what I wanted because that’s what I had. But now?” she paused. Aimed the gun at Eve again. “I want you to take it back. Take back stabbing me. Make it so it didn’t happen. So, I can have my life back again.”

“Believe me I wish I could!” Eve’s voice broke. “So I could have _my_ life back.”

“Oh yes because it was soooo interesting before I came along.” Villanelle rolled her eyes.

Eve didn’t have a reply to that. Well it had been boring, there was no point denying it. She gave a small shrug.  

“Wait. You really found it that boring? All the job and husband and…I mean I would’ve found it boring but you? Heh.” Villanelle smirked. “You are a little bit like me, aren’t you? I wanted you and you used that to get me.” She tapped her side. “You get bored, you got so bored with your nice little life you chased after me, all the way here.” Villanelle was laughing now.

Eve sighed. It was only going to pander to Villanelle’s ego, but she felt she had to say it. “I uh…I knew about you before you know.” She confessed.

“What?” That shut Villanelle up.

“Well I didn’t know it was _you_ precisely, didn’t even know what you looked like but I’d been tracking your kills. It was…”

“Something to stop you being bored?”

“Mm. It was Kedrin, that’s when I got fired for trying to find out about you, and also because you killed like four people on my watch. I mean I got hired to find out about you right after so…”

“Dream job huh?” Villanelle wasn’t taking the mick now, she just sounded curious.

“Yeah.” Eve smiled wryly.

“You’re kind of a psychopath yourself huh?”

“I am not a psychopath! I don’t kill people for _fun_!”

“No, you just kill people for revenge. I don’t think it really matters about the motivation. And if this is about Bill? I said sorry. Something which you haven’t done yet, despite the fact I’ve been here this long already.”

“Oh. Yeah. ‘Sorry baby’. Really sincere. I really believed it.” There was that awkwardness again, as if Eve had mis-read her. “Wait. You don’t actually think that constitutes an apology?” She ran her fingers through her hair, in exasperation. “It doesn’t work like that!”

“I don’t know how it works, okay? Why don’t you apologise to _me,_ then I can see how it’s done.”

“I’m sorry for stabbing you.” Eve glowered at her.

Villanelle gave a small grin. “I don’t think that is how it’s done either.”

“Piss off.”

“Is that what you want?” Villanelle rose as if to go.

“No!” Eve hated herself for that. And there was the smug grin, the same one after she’d shouted it down a road, to a woman holding a gun to her own throat.

“Hm. So. Question for you, Eve Polastri.” In the midst of everything, Eve couldn’t help but like the way her surname (was it even hers anymore? If she divorced?) sounded from Villanelle’s mouth. “What do you want? And don’t be a dick.”


	2. we always find something to give us the impression we exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw: guns are waved threateningly

Eve sat there, stumped. It was a question, and one that would have to be answered honestly, if not to Villanelle than to herself. She thought back to her old life, reviewed it to see if there was anything from there she still wanted. The steady job, the steady husband, what she’d thought of as steady friends, but Bill hadn’t been kidding about being a dark horse. She wished she’d known that sooner. And in amongst all the steadiness, what she’d wanted back then was more excitement. Which she’d found in her little hobby of studying killers, assassins, psychopaths. Well… women assassins. _Have you ever been interested in women?_ Yes, she answered more truthfully this time. She hadn’t thought of it like that, hadn’t thought of them like that. She’d thought it was just something to make her job more interesting, using the knowledge she’d got from her degree. All the little theories that had made her… what had that dickswab called her? A “tiresome thinkbucket.”

And when she’d come face to face with the reality of killers, assassins and psychopaths, when she’d seen that hospital room, covered with blood and littered with dead people, the violence of an actual kill, and seeing the light drain from Kasia’s eyes, she’d freaked out. She hadn’t been hysterical or lost her head, but she hadn’t expected what it would look like. For everything to be so vivid and urgent and real. Getting the sack, that hadn’t felt real and besides, Bill had been right alongside her, which made it seem more rebellious. The job offer! Now that had been exciting. Dream job indeed. Realising that all her theories were real and now she could act on them properly. She hadn’t really believed what she’d told Niko, about it being as dangerous as a dodgy sandwich. That had been part of the thrill, keeping the danger a secret like that. Like stabbing her thigh and wiping away the blood before he could see. Although, maybe he had seen. Maybe he’d realised, tugging the suitcase down for her, all those little warnings, trying not to be afraid or angry.

The chance to go after Villanelle. Abroad to foreign countries. To bring the dusty suitcase out of retirement, only to be kidnapped by Villanelle, and then returned, full of expensive clothes. It had certainly been on some adventures now. But she’d only gone because Villanelle had used Eve’s name. A ‘come find me’ call. And she’d followed it compulsively. It had ended in Bill’s murder. And that had switched it from exciting chase to personal hunt, a quest for revenge.

Seeing her, coming up the field, the first time since the hospital toilet, running after the car. And Eve had stopped, like Villanelle had sent out another call. Villanelle had held her own gun to her throat, but that was a test, did Eve want her caught or did she want her dead? Eve had failed, shouting, “No!” Stabbing Villanelle had brought that home. She didn’t want her dead. Wanting to kill Villanelle was not the same as wanting her dead. She wasn’t even sure she wanted her caught. Both were equally boring. And she couldn’t contemplate Villanelle gone. What would she do with her life? Villanelle had probably figured that out, perhaps was entranced back. Which was why she’d come to dinner.

_“It’s so nice to finally meet you.”_

It was at that impromptu dinner that Eve realised she couldn’t get at Villanelle through force or strength or violence. Villanelle far outmatched her on all of those scores. But Villanelle had betrayed something too, coming to dinner like that. The smile when she realised Eve was wearing her scent. Possessive and dick-ish and smug to be sure, but also an undercurrent of surprise, as if she hadn’t expected that. After all, to the wear the clothes and the _personalised_ perfume, bearing the name of her best friend’s killer, was a little unusual, might even be construed as suggestive of something.

Russia had been a hunch, wanting to find out more about Villanelle’s life. But she’d been right. Carolyn had hired her for her intuition, and she’d been _bloody right!_ And serious, about her offer, just her and Villanelle. Spur of the moment, where could they have gone? Where could they have been safe? All that seemed laughable, and completely irrelevant anyway because Villanelle had run off. And instead of going home, Eve had followed her, all the way here. Was that stalker-ish? When she’d seen the flat, anger at the way she felt about Villanelle had overflowed. How dare Villanelle come back to this place with bottles of champagne, and a beautiful bathroom, and _Eve’s clothes just hanging there like trophies_.

She hadn’t had a plan then either, when she realised Villanelle was back. She’d grabbed weapons because it seemed a sensible thing to do around an assassin, despite the fact they’d never been particularly useful before. The scene played in her mind, as it had all the nights since. The turn. The smile. The sit. The lean. The fall back. The look. The promise. The gun down. The roll. The stab.

What had she wanted in that moment? Revenge had still been foremost in her mind, despite her attraction to the young woman. And it had been so easy, she’d never have guessed, to get Villanelle to…

“Tell me already. I’m getting bored. And if I get too bored, I’ll kill you, just to stop being bored.” Villanelle waved the gun.

“I want…” Eve began hastily, then swallowed. “I want to watch a movie with you. No knives. No guns. Just you and me. Like I offered.”

There was that awkwardness. Deflected once again by a look of amusement as Villanelle’s eyes flicked around the basement flat. “You have shit taste in places to take a woman.”

Eve laughed. “Sorry. I haven’t flirted since the 90s.”

Villanelle hefted her gun, weighing it, tossing it from hand to hand. “Okay.” She said quietly. And then pointed it at Eve again. “Strip.”

“What?” Eve’s eyes narrowed.

“Strip. I want to make sure.”

“What?? No, I’m not…”

“You did before.” Villanelle pointed out.

“Ha yeah. Little Miss I Won’t Look.”

Villanelle’s lips twitched and she raised her eyebrows to acknowledge that. “Fine. I will have to search you myself.” Villanelle rose slowly to her feet.

“Um. What?” Eve pressed herself against the back of the sofa as Villanelle took a step forward.

“Pat you down. Like a border agent. Or prison guard. Don’t worry. I won’t make you cough and squat.

“What??” Villanelle was now far too close, still holding the gun, pressing it into Eve’s stomach. “No!”

To her surprise, Villanelle stopped. “Fine.” She kept the gun trained on Eve, edging towards the basement stairs.

“Hey! Wait! Where are you…” Eve was surprised at this sudden backing down.

“You really think after last time, I’m trusting you?” Villanelle gazed at her as if Eve were an idiot for not getting this. “You want to watch a movie? Okay. But not without making sure.”

“Ugh. As if this isn’t just to give you more masturbation fodder.” Eve shook her head. But she tugged her jumper and t-shirt off, hesitated and then figured Villanelle had seen it all before anyway and pulled down her trousers. She balled her clothes up and threw them into a corner, standing defiantly in her underwear.

“Oof. Sexy. Hey, if you can’t go back to your old job, you should consider stripping. Good money.” Villanelle raised her eyebrows and nodded. “But you know, people can hide things in the strangest places.”

“I am _not_ taking any more off.” Eve scowled.

“Eh. You probably wouldn’t know how to hide anything in there anyways.” Villanelle didn’t press the issue. She walked over and placed the gun on top of Eve’s clothes.

Eve was suffering from emotional whiplash already, but it increased when Villanelle started taking off her clothes.

“Oh! Oh. Okay. Um.” She looked everywhere else, staring at the shabby surroundings. The basement flat really wasn’t the best.

“Hey. Pay attention. You can take notes for your audition.”

Eve’s eyes flicked back automatically. “Um. Oh you…”

“See? This is how you strip.”

“Wow! You’re really…” Eve scrunched her eyes closed, pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can you…Please. Please stop!” 

Villanelle paused with her hands on her bra strap. “What? I thought you’d be more comfortable if we were both naked. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Um.” Several vital circuits in Eve’s speech centres seemed to have been blown.

“Eve.”

 _She said Eeeevvee_.

“Eve!”

She kept her eyes closed.

“Fine.”

“No!” they flew open and Eve grabbed at Villanelle’s wrist as the assassin brushed past her. She found herself flung on her back on the awful sofa, pinned there by Villanelle’s blazing eyes.

 _I don’t like being touched without permission_.

“I am so sorry. I thought you were going to leave. Does…did you hurt…” she gestured towards Villanelle’s abdomen, where she was now clutching it, almost bent double.

“You’ve never been stabbed before, have you?” Villanelle asked patronisingly.

“Um. No.”

“Want to try it out?” There was that shark like grin and a knife in her hand.

Eve froze. She was on her back, on the sofa, couldn’t run anyway, Villanelle was stood right over her. Where had she been _keeping_ that knife anyway?

“Relax. I promised, remember?” _Promised what?_ Eve’s mind had gone blank. “Although…” Villanelle considered. “I could stab you without killing you. Just hurt you a bit.”

Eve shivered, whether in fear or arousal she couldn’t tell. The cold cracked leather was digging into her bare skin. Of course, the only reason Villanelle would come after her would be for revenge. She’d expected that. The conversation was just foreplay.

“Hey.” Villanelle’s expression became serious. Curious. As it had been when Eve had been sat on her bed. “You want me to stay?”

“Yes.” Eve cut off the internal monologue, that questioned her sanity at that reply. But there could be no other answer. Indecision would bore Villanelle into leaving or killing her. A no would be a rejection, and Eve got the feeling Villanelle would go, despite anything she might want, Eve or revenge. Or both. Couldn’t spell with revenge without eve after all. “Yes.”

“Then move over.” Villanelle waved a hand at Eve, who shuffled onto one side of the sofa. The cracked leather was really uncomfortable on bare skin, but the assassin carefully lowered herself down anyway. “Next time, we go somewhere I decide.” Villanelle looked disgusted.

Next time? Eve blinked. “I could get us a blanket from the bed? Or…”

“Oh, you want to get cosy?”

“No! Just to stop the leather rubbing.”

“Okay.”

Eve flew to the bedroom, grabbed the blanket and threw it over the sofa and they both sat down, far apart. Eve slumped down, Villanelle sat forward, fiddling with the knife, flicking it open, closing it, pushing it against her finger tips.

“Switch the movie on.”

Eve did so. She waited for Villanelle to comment on her poor taste in movies but there was only silence. She glanced sideways at the assassin. She looked so strong, self-assured, somehow still completely at ease. Eve’s eyes moved down to the bandages. She shivered again.

“Are you cold?” Indifferent tone.

“No. I just…” Eve’s throat was dry, and she gulped, licked her lips, tried to get moisture in her mouth.

“Scared?” Taunting.

“No.” Eve said slowly, realising that in some way it was true.

“Are you thinking about me?” Smug.

“Yes.” Eve admitted through gritted teeth. “I mean I noticed your stomach. Abdomen.”

Chilly silence. “I should kill you. Get you back. I was going to.”

“I know.” Eve remembered the gun shots sending her scurrying back into the kitchen. So much for the promise.  

“I might get you back later. In bed.”

There was going to be a bit in bed?  Well at least that part would never lack excitement. Unlike with Niko. Wait, what part? A part of what? There was nothing for there to be a part of! Eve stopped her meandering thoughts. She zoned out, concentrating on the movie. She curled up against the arm of the sofa, her legs drawn to her stomach, she was a little chilly after all, one arm propping up her head, the other curled around her knees.

There was a creak of leather. She tensed as she felt the cushions depress. And suddenly there was this warm heavy weight, flopped against her, an arm wriggling beneath her arm to drape across her stomach, breasts squishing against her back and warm breath on her shoulder. Eve waited in a cold sweat for the knife thrust into her stomach, or between her ribs or somewhere, but it never came. Villanelle had simply tucked herself between Eve and the sofa.

It was almost a perfect metaphor, thought Eve, as to how the smug little shit had wormed her way into Eve’s life. Or had she? Eve had been hunting her, before Villanelle even knew of her existence. Had been tracking her for two years.

 _You found me_.

Maybe it had been Eve who had wormed her way into Villanelle’s life. Her exciting little fantasy becoming a pretty sucky reality. If she’d not indulged in it? She’d be at home with Niko right now and Villanelle would be killing someone, probably. Instead, they were both tucked up here, in another little fantasy.

Because this was a pause, a delay. This could not be reality, even the pretty sucky one that it currently was. People would be after Villanelle. People would be after Eve? Whether Carolyn was part of the 12 or not, the 12 knew of her existence. There was no way she could go back to anything in her life now. She would always be looking over her shoulder for the 12. For Villanelle. For death.

Eve looked over her shoulder at the slumped assassin, and realised she’d fallen asleep.

“Huh.”

Tensed, ready to defend herself or leap away, she moved her hand from her knees and covered Villanelle’s one on her stomach. Barely breathing, she waited. There was no response. Breath by breath, she forced herself to relax. Well. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge in the fantasy a little longer. She watched the rest of the movie until it bored her to sleep.

When she woke up the next morning, Villanelle was gone.


	3. Who am I to tell my private nightmares to if I can’t tell them to you

Confusion, along with a strange disappointment filled Eve as she searched the few rooms that made up the basement flat and found them empty. Villanelle had specifically come looking for her, why had she left so suddenly? Without killing Eve. Or hurting her. She pulled on pyjamas and wandering the rooms again, leaning against the sofa. She noticed her hands shaking and panic rising within her. Villanelle had left, but surely that would make her feel safer. Not more vulnerable. As if suddenly anyone could get her. The 12, MI6, the world. Reality. And the reality was, Eve realised, was that she didn’t want to spend her life looking over her shoulder for Villanelle. For a moment she wished for her old life back. Her old nice anonymous, weird but boring job, and boring husband and a little bit boring friends who bought her croissants and sang karaoke with her. Because now there was no safety, no comfort. And now, there wasn’t even Villanelle, to pull her forward into the next stage of the adventure.

“You bastard…” she sank back onto the sofa, wrapping herself in the blanket. She’d have to go home now. There was nothing left there. But there was nothing left here either. Her head went back, resting on the sofa, staring at the ceiling without seeing.

“Hey! What happened?”

Tears were blurring the face, but the voice was recognisable instantly. Eve wiped her face with the blanket. Villanelle was leaning over the back of the sofa, looking down at her. She was wearing, Eve noticed with a pang of annoyance, one of Eve’s tops.

“Did someone hurt you? Did someone come?” Villanelle’s voice was tense and cold, all business.

“No! No. It was just…” Eve shifted upright.

“What?”

“Nothing! I was just thinking.”

“And crying. Were you thinking about Bill?”

That got Eve up off the sofa.

“Ah!” But Villanelle had a knife ready.

Eve lobbed a cushion at her. It fell victim to the knife.

“If you’re trying to kill me? A cushion won’t really get the job done.” Villanelle looked thoughtful for a moment. “Not while I’m conscious at any rate.” She narrowed her eyes, staring at Eve. “So?”

“So what?” Eve wrapped the blanket back around her and flopped on the sofa, staring moodily at the blank tv screen. “And why do you care?”

“Good point.” Villanelle pocketed the knife and moved into the kitchenette area, flipping on a kettle, putting bags on the counter, chopping up fruit. The sounds seemed loud in the tense silence.

Villanelle was waiting for her to say it. Eve scowled. She could tell. Or maybe she wasn’t, and Eve just wanted her to be. The kettle clicked off.

“You were gone.”

“Hm?” Villanelle turned the blender on.

Eve waited for her to finish. Villanelle came over with a glass of smoothie.

“You were gone.”

Villanelle looked completely nonplussed as she handed it to Eve. “Yeah. I went to get breakfast.” She moved back to the counter, filling up the coffee press with hot water, putting croissants onto a plate.

This time Eve let the silence tug at Villanelle, staring at her intently. “What?” Villanelle shrugged awkwardly. “There’s nothing in here and reheated take-out for breakfast is baaaaddd.” She came back over with a tray, loaded with coffee, a croissant, butter, orange juice. “There.”

“Thank you.” Eve sniffed. Tried to focus on eating and drinking but her mouth didn’t seem to be working properly. She blew her nose. Pondered whether the breakfast was poisoned.

“Wait.” Villanelle slid over the back of the sofa, plopping down next to her. She sat facing Eve, head resting on her arm. It was so reminiscent of that time in her bed, it gave Eve chills. “Were you crying because you missed me?” the smug smile returned.

“No.” Eve crammed the remainder of her croissant in her mouth so she wouldn’t have to explain.

Villanelle’s expression was disbelieving.

Eve gulped her orange juice to clear the crumbs of the croissant. “I just thought that you’d, y’know, gone.”

“I go. I come back. Magic!” Villanelle smiled.

“Forever.”

The assassin shifted away suddenly, looked uncomfortable, taking a deep breath, gulping. It was so uncharacteristic a response that Eve was startled. Villanelle noticed her watching and snorted. “Like I’d just disappear before I paid you back for this.” She gestured to her stomach.

“Do you always make breakfast for people you’re going to kill?” Eve asked drily.

“Hey. I’m not going to kill you. You didn’t kill me. That wouldn’t be payback.”

“So what? You’re going to torture me with good coffee?” Eve took a sip. It really was good.

Villanelle’s face went blank. “Finish it. Then shower and get dressed. We have a lot of things to do today.”

“We do?” with coffee this good, Eve had no intention of rushing it without good reason.

“Y’know the thing about pissing off people like the 12? They tend to be dedicated at trying to track you down. So yes. Lots to do.”

“You pissed them off? How?”

Villanelle pursed her lips, looking as if she might not answer.

“Well. They sent me another you know person to give me missions, after Konstantin defected. And this guy was soo annoying. Really misogynistic, y’know…” Villanelle raised her eyebrows and nodded to emphasise her point.

“So, you killed him.” Eve could guess the end to that story.

Villanelle gave a meek smile. It would’ve looked apologetic, if it wasn’t on Villanelle.

“They also won’t like the fact I got stabbed by you.”

“I’m so sorry.” Eve said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She had felt sorry too, sorrier than she had been for yelling at Niko at any rate. But when Villanelle brought it up at _every_ opportunity, her guilt was waning somewhat. She was beginning to think Villanelle wasn’t even taking it that seriously.

“You found me.” Villanelle seemed to be trying to tell her something important, but Eve was just confused. Shrugged to indicate her confusion. The assassin huffed. “You, the woman leading the department to find me, found me. And then, you got close enough to stab me.” She explained slowly. “You know what that means?”

“I’m your type?” Eve remembered Anna’s words.

“It means,” Villanelle ignored her. “I didn’t see you as a threat until you got that close. I let you get that close and didn’t do a thing about it. Very bad.”

“To them. I’m okay with that.”

“I’m not. Strangely. And neither are they.”

 “So, what? They think you’re compromised now or something?” Villanelle’s eyes slid away from her. “Oh.” _You found me_.

“Go shower already.”

Eve didn’t push the issue any further, downed her coffee and got up. “Wait is that why they’re pissed off with me too? Because I stabbed you?”

“Because you know about them. And because you knew about them, now I know about them.” Villanelle stared at the floor. “Why do you think they kept me locked up in prison? If you were that kind of person, you could consider it almost poetic. I go back to the same prison they got me out of. And I spend the rest of my days there under a false name, and technically I’m dead anyway, so no-one would even bother come looking. Perfect hiding place for a compromised asset.”

Villanelle’s voice was flat but something about the way she slumped on the sofa made Eve want to hug her, to comfort her. To reassure her.

“I would’ve tracked you down. Got you out.” Eve smiled at her. It didn’t sound reassuring in the slightest.

Villanelle snorted. “Well, ok, you would bother. I forgot. My own personal stalker.” She shrugged. “Luckily for you, M16 came to offer me a deal, so they had to get me out then. Otherwise who knows what I would’ve told them.” The airy tone of voice still wasn’t fully concealing Villanelle’s concern.

“Wait Carolyn was offering you a deal?”

“Duh.”

“So, she’s not one of the 12?” Eve sat down next to Villanelle once more, leaning in, reconsidering several suspicions she had.

“How should I know? But then they wanted me to take out Konstantin. I guess it was a sort of test. Of my loyalties. If I was willing to kill the man who’d been my handler, who’d got me out, I would still be able to be an asset. Also, it would wrap up the loose end. I figured if I killed him, I could go back to my life.”

“So, it’s all good. You killed him. You can go back.” Eve stared into her coffee cup. She hadn’t taken to Konstantin because she’d suspected him of double dealing. But once he’d acknowledged she was right, even if he hadn’t ever actually said it, she’d grown to like him. He was someone who cared for Villanelle as well. Possibly he also wanted to kill her occasionally. She felt like they’d bonded.

“Well until I got back to find my apartment trashed and then I got stabbed, so no. Go. Shower.” Villanelle shooed her away from the sofa, curling up in Eve’s vacated seat.

With a resigned sigh that Villanelle was _never_ going to let her live that down, if she let her live at all, Eve went and showered. And yet, she thought, in the shower, Villanelle really wasn’t taking it seriously. She was treating it like it was on the same level as her and Bill singing Disney at karaoke. Something to be laughed about and brought up all the time to embarrass people. Maybe it was an assassin thing.

She got dressed in record time, mainly because she’d come back out to find Villanelle stood in the doorway, watching her. Watching her intently. Eve found it didn’t bother her. Villanelle had already seen everything anyway.

“I thought we had a lot to do today.” Eve side-eyed her as she pulled on her boots. Villanelle hadn’t moved an inch.

“Don’t worry. You are on the list.”

Eve wasn’t sure if that meant what she thought it meant and couldn’t think of any sort of appropriate response anyway, so just laughed. “Okay. Apart from me, and you, what else do we have to do?”

“Oh! I am on your to do list? Cute. Well, first we have to find a way to England. I love Paris but I think people will be here soon, looking for me. And it will be far too easy to find. I have other identities I can pick up. And it’s probably best for you if we go to an English-speaking country. You’ll stick out here like a sore thumb.”

“Vi…O…what do you want me to call you?”

“Villanelle. Oksana is not a good name. But only in the bedroom, okay?”

“What?”

“Well Villanelle is my assassin handle? I think if you went around calling me that in public, they might notice.” Villanelle drawled.

“So, what should I call you?”

“My alias in England is Fanny.”

Eve didn’t laugh. Just stared at her. “You’re kidding me.”

“What? It’s short for Francesca. Francesca Adams.” Villanelle switched to her English accent. “I am a sweet English rose. Sweet Fanny Adams.”

“I am _not_ calling you that.” Eve bagged up the last of her toiletries and threw them into her suitcase. Maybe going home was a good idea. She’d need to do some laundry at some point. “I think that’s more attention drawing than Villanelle. Hm. Nell. How about Nellie?”

Villanelle scowled. “It will sound very weird if you call me that, when Fanny is the name on my passport.”

“Oh my god.” Eve buried her face in her hands. “You’re serious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going through a bad spell writing wise so I'm just writing sh*t and not caring


	4. don’t touch me don’t question me don’t speak to me stay with me

After a brief argument on precisely how and when Villanelle was _ever_ serious, they’d left the Airbnb to go to the ferry port.

“I like the ocean. So many times, for the job, I am flying, always in a hurry.” Villanelle explained, sucking on a lolly as she drove the car she’d stolen. “The ferry is nice. Plus, always an opportunity to throw you overboard.”

“You’re so nice.” Eve didn’t look up from her phone. She was leaving a review for the Airbnb, still irked from Villanelle asking whether she only trashed the apartments of people she liked rather than as a hobby. She didn’t like Villanelle. _It was always the ones I liked least that I loved the most._ “Thanks _Mom_.” She whispered under her breath as Carolyn’s words once again came to mind.

“What? What did you call me?”

“Nothing.” Eve waved her away.

“Did you just call me _Mom?_ ”

“No! I was tal…”

“You are the one old enough to be my mother.”

Eve took a breath before reacting. Mainly because Villanelle was driving the car. The car had surprised her, it looked so sedate. Villanelle had said she’d preferred motorbikes but neither of them had helmets.

“Anna told me _your_ mother died. How old were you?”

Villanelle drove silently, looked bored, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “7.”

“Do you remember her?”

“Vaguely. She had really shitty hair. Like mine.”

“I don’t think your hair is shitty.”

Villanelle rolled her eyes. Didn’t reply. Flipped the bird at a driver who’d tried to cut her up. Eve waited until she’d stopped an expletive ridden rant, had stopped growling and gripping the steering wheel and silence had settled until she asked her next question. It’d come to mind because 7 was just a year before…

“Why did you stab that girl?”

“Because she kept on asking irritating questions.” Villanelle smoothly overtook three cars.

“Really?” Eve was surprised.

“No! Do I have to stab you to stop you asking them?”

“I just want to…”

“…know everything.” Villanelle sneered, mocking Eve’s disclosure, as she’d sat on Villanelle’s bed.

“My mother and father split up when I was a kid.”

“Uuugghhhhh.” Villanelle groaned theatrically. “Did I even ask?”

“My dad died after I finished college. University. That’s when I moved back to England.”

“Fascinating.” In a tone that indicated the precise opposite.

“What did your dad do? Anna mentioned he was a drunk?”

“Did Anna mention what we used to do?” Villanelle smirked.

“She denied anything buuuutttt there were a lot of letters. She kept them all.”

“Ha!” the smirk widened.

Further conversation was stalled by their arrival at the ferry port. Eve was jealous of the fluent French that got them waved through customs and into the lines waiting for the ferry, wished suddenly she’d tried a little harder at languages. She’d been with Niko how long? And she’d only picked up a few phrases. Villanelle would probably have been fluent in Polish.

“You want food?” Villanelle pointed at a crappy looking café.

“Sure.” Eve had a feeling Villanelle was very food orientated. And she certainly didn’t want a hangry Villanelle. And if they sat in the car waiting, one of them was probably going to end up dead.

 

The food was predictably bad, or at least Eve thought so. Villanelle ate it with gusto and every sign of enjoyment. Well, she had said she’d eat anything. A leftover, perhaps, from her childhood, or prison. Eve could only imagine. They passed the rest of the time in silence, Eve not wanting to risk any more irritating questions in an enclosed space. She played a game on her phone. Villanelle flicked at the car door handle, sighing heavily. She got interested when Eve gave a small whoop at beating her high score, snatching the phone at Eve’s hand with a “let me see” and a derogatory remark about whether Eve had changed her pin. When the time eventually came, the loading onto the ferry was loud, full of clangs and clanking. Eve felt strangely disorientated. She’d always flown places, before she’d stopped travelling altogether.

“Come on.” Villanelle grabbed her hand and tugged her through the streams of people heading up the narrow stair cases, that turned to wider carpeted ones and out through a door onto a small portion of deck.

“Do you trust me?” Villanelle grinned, as she balanced on the bottom rung of the railings.

Eve dismissed the possibility that Villanelle was quoting Titanic and replied truthfully, “No.”

Villanelle snorted and stepped down, stood looking over the side, watching the foaming water as the ferry got underway. She looked bizarrely lost again. Eve gingerly covered one of Villanelle’s hands with her own, tried to give a comforting smile. Got a ‘what the fuck’ look in return. Altho.ugh Villanelle didn’t move her hand, so Eve didn’t move hers.

“Do you want to kiss?”

“Uh…no?” _well sort of yes but…_ Eve wasn’t sure what Villanelle was expecting her to say.

The hand was jerked away. “Then why are you touching me?”

“Are you pissed off because I said no?”

Villanelle sighed. “You do things to me Eve Polastri.” She leaned in, whispering in Eve’s ear, making her shiver. “When you touch me, whenever you’re near…”

Eve staggered. Apparently, it was a reciprocated feeling because her knees shouldn’t have given way like that. She clung to the railing and Villanelle grabbed her arm, pulling her upright again.

“He, hey. It’s okay.”

Only it wasn’t, because now she was in Villanelle’s arms and it didn’t seem like she was in any hurry to let go of Eve.

“It’s romantic right? On a ferry?”

“Is that why you chose it over a plane?” Eve tried to look solely into Villanelle’s eyes. “I thought you wanted to look at the water.”

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Villanelle let her go, leaning on the railing. It was romantic, Eve admitted. Watching the wind tease strands of Villanelle’s hair out its bun, leading to thoughts on what it looked like when it was down, how Eve would tease strands out, run her fingers through it.

“Oh god.” She covered her eyes.

“Are you feeling sea sick?”

“No.”

“Good. I don’t want to have to hold your hair while you vomit. Also, I think you can get fined for littering the ocean.”

 

Although she wasn’t seasick, Eve was glad when the journey was over and they were heading back down to the car, waiting that interminable wait for their lane to be cleared. And then they were driving off, through the port and onto the motorway. Back in England. The sight of street signs in English was bizarrely comforting. She was back home. Sort of. She knew how to deal with things here. Sort of.

They pulled in at a service station, booked a room in the bad hotel. It was a sign of the times that the woman who ran the place hadn’t blinked at Villanelle ordering a double bed for two women. Eve had tried to protest but Villanelle had grabbed her round the waist. “Are you ashamed of me, baby? Of us?” all in that fake British accent.

The woman had hidden a smile and handed them a key.

Eve sat on the bed, testing it. “As seduction techniques go? Not exactly five stars. Is this your taste in places to take a woman?” she moved to the window, looking out at the carpark, scrubby trees and harsh lights.

Villanelle shrugged. “I don’t think they have a penthouse suite.” She hauled off her jumper and t-shirt, inspected her bandage. Eve stared. Well it was payback, she told herself. She forced herself to watch as Villanelle peeled it away, revealing stitches, livid bruising and dried and fresh blood. She felt bile rise in her mouth as Villanelle cleaned the wound, hissing. Although Eve wasn’t entirely sure whether that was put on or not. It was expertly bandaged again. But Villanelle’s face was tight with pain as she swung her legs up and led down on the bed. Of course, she’d take the right-hand side.

Eve sat down gingerly on the left, trying to ignore the memories, forcing herself to take off her shoes, lie back, shuffling up against the head board. She glanced at Villanelle, who hadn’t moved, was still lying there with her eyes closed, hands clasped across her stomach. Ignore, ignore, ignore the fact it was so similar, ignore the memory, but she felt sick, she was going to be sick, tears were streaming down her face.

“You know, usually it’s the victim who suffers from PTSD in cases of being stabbed.” Villanelle mocked her as she stumbled to the bathroom. “And don’t throw up, you’ll make the bathroom stink.”

She splashed water on her face, gulped some down. She went back out, took one look at the bed and led down on the floor, curled up in a ball.

“I didn’t get a double bed so you could sleep on the floor.”

“Piss off.” Eve closed her eyes, but she could still hear the rustle of bedding, the footsteps, could still feel the presence, the warmth, as Villanelle laid down next to her. The soft fingers, pushing her hair back and wiping away tears.

“Hey.” Such a soft tone, almost caring.

_Will you stay for a little bit?_

Warm breath on her lips.

 _Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing._ I don’t, Eve thought, still not opening her eyes, waiting for a kiss that never came. Only a sigh.

“I got your note. In the coat. At Anna’s. It was strange being back there again. I never knew with her, who was the more obsessed. She was the one who took an interest, always sooo helpful. A little too helpful, y’know? Weirdly helpful.”

Eve realised the age gap between Anna and Oksana, at such a tender age, if Villanelle had ever been tender, was a little creepy. Was the age gap between her and Villanelle creepy? She rolled onto her back. Villanelle was younger than her, but it wasn’t like Eve had any control or influence over Villanelle.

“The same with you.”

“Excuse me?” Except when she was tricking Villanelle into letting her guard down so she could stab her perhaps.

“You were a fan, tracked me down. Before I even knew you existed.”

“Your point?”

“People always blame me for wrecking their lives. But they’re the ones who let me in to start with. They invite me in. And they wreck my life too. Getting me sent to prison, trashing my apartment. They betray me.”

“Stab you.”

“Right? And then they blame me. And that hurts.”

“Are you hurt?”

Something hard jabbed into Eve’s abdomen, just below the ribs. She glanced down, but it was merely Villanelle’s hand. And it was empty.

“What do you think?” Villanelle hissed.

“You should go see Anna, you know. She wants to forgive you.”

“I did. With Irina. She pulled a gun on me. She said I couldn’t kill her. I said I could. She shot herself in the head. In front of Irina too. Troubled woman.”

“You said I couldn’t kill you.”

“You couldn’t. Look. See?” Villanelle waved a hand in front of her eyes.

“You’re unreal.”

“No Eve.” Villanelle rolled on top of her. “I am _very_ real.”

Eve had to work very hard for her body not to respond in any obvious way. She wasn’t sure if she was successful.

“Am I boring you?”

Eve gave a shout of laughter. “No.” she opened her eyes once more to find the always delightful sight of a non-plussed Villanelle.

“Am I too much?”

“Nooo.” Eve drawled slowly. “Just sometimes I feel like you’re prodding me deliberately.”

Villanelle prodded her in the stomach again. “So don’t ignore me.”

“Oh my god. You’re like a child.”

“I am really not.”

“No but in some ways.”

Villanelle sat up, straddling her. She placed a flat hand on Eve’s stomach, the place where she’d been stabbed.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Eve asked.

“I promised.”

“Yeah and then you shot a gun at me two minutes later yelling “DIE””

“Because you…”

“Stabbed me.” Eve mimicked her.

Villanelle’s jaw dropped. “Don’t do that!”

“Why not?” Eve laughed.

“Because that’s what she does.” Came a gruff voice from the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three guess who


	5. did I ever leave you? you let me go

Villanelle turned to look, having been so busy taunting Eve she hadn’t noticed the door open. Eve raised herself onto her elbows, unable to do much more with Villanelle still sat on her. She thought she’d recognised the teasing Russian accent.

“Konstantin?!”

“You?!”

“You left a message for me.” Konstantin raised his eyebrows at Villanelle’s shocked ‘you!’. “What’s with the surprise?”

Villanelle shrugged, lounged against Eve’s bent knees. “How’s the gunshot wound?”

“How’s the stab wound?” Konstantin gestured towards her stomach.

“Healing.” They said together, mocking each other. Villanelle grinned.

“See I knew you did not want to kill me really.” Konstantin wagged a finger at her. “Just enough to make it look good eh?”

“I always make it look good.” Villanelle took mock offence. “How is your daughter?”

“Still annoying. But _still_ not as much as you right now.” Konstantin looked at Eve, flicked eyes between her and Villanelle. “Should I come back later?” he asked pointedly.

Villanelle was slow to roll off Eve, and not all of it could be attributed to her wound. Eve decided that the floor was probably safest to try and figure out what was going on. Villanelle had left a message for him? Was she defecting? Or had Konstantin managed to get back in with the Twelve? Or… she flopped backwards, staring at the ceiling.

Konstantin regarded them both, arms crossed, one hand stroking his beard. “I can see how it could work. You suit each other. Really. You’re both crazy and annoying.” He shook his head. “The Twelve will be after you both, if you are together, you know.”

“I know.” Villanelle was affronted that he’d think she hadn’t realised that. “That’s why I got her, as soon as I was recovered enough to.” Villanelle smirked. “She waited for me.”

Eve let out a loud groan.

“You make a cute couple.” Konstantin shrugged.

Eve was baffled at how she was suddenly in a relationship? She hadn’t even got divorced yet. “We’re…I’m…” somehow a denial wouldn’t form in her mouth, not with Villanelle smirking at her like that.

“So!” Konstantin ignored her anyway. “What is the plan? I have already contacted Carolyn.”

“Who?”

“WHAT?!”

“The woman who visited you in prison. She seems worried about the both of you. I thought it best to check in.” Konstantin waved away Villanelle’s confused expression and Eve’s startled one.

“Oh god.” Eve struggled up off the floor, dragging her hands over her face. If she didn’t want to confront the reality of a divorce, she certainly didn’t want the reminder that she’d phenomenally screwed up her job. Although, with less casualties than the first time she had. She looked through her fingers to find Konstantin was standing in front of the door, Villanelle in front of the window.

“Oh.” They both had guarded expressions. “Am I your prisoner now?” she waved a finger between them.

“I have been instructed to bring you _both_ to a safe house. From there, Carolyn will meet you and decide what happens next. But only her.” He swiftly reassured Eve, as he watched her expression drain. She’d been thinking how she was the next Frank. “I will be your guard.” He smiled.

Even Villanelle was looking confused now. But she grabbed her stuff and Eve’s suitcase. Eve guessed she was used to taking orders from Konstantin on short notice. She tried to commandeer her suitcase back, unpleasant memories of the last time Villanelle had taken it welling up, but Villanelle’s grip was too strong. She double checked her handbag still had mobile phone, passport and purse. At least if she had to run for it, she’d have that.

“We’ll need to check out.” She said, as they passed the reception desk.

“I have already done so.” Konstantin told her.

“What? You can do that?”

“Sure.” He smiled at her, holding the door open for them both. I’ve got to learn that trick, she thought to herself, trying to block out the sound of her suitcase wheels on the carpark. It was so _loud_. Konstantin lifted it into the boot of the small car for her and gestured for her to get in. The back. With Villanelle.

“I can’t ride shotgun?” Villanelle pouted.

“No.” He pointed at the door and with a sigh, she got in.

Konstantin drove them, tapping on the steering wheel, constantly checking the rear-view mirror, though whether to check if anyone was following them or to keep an eye on Villanelle, Eve couldn’t figure out. He seemed in good spirits though.

It was late when they arrived at the safe house. There was only one bed, as Eve pointed out.

“I’ll take the sofa, don’t worry.” Konstantin shrugged, spreading his hands wide.

Villanelle pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

“I need wine.” Eve said tonelessly, staring at the bed.

“I will go get some.” Konstantin recognised someone about to blow their top and hastened back out the door. “Villanelle? Look after her.”

“Wait, so now I’m her guard?” Villanelle yelled after him. “Some protection.” She snorted in disgust as the door slammed. “So.”

Eve was too much in a state of shock about all of this. She would process it when she had wine.

“Eeeeeve.” Villanelle was standing in front of her. She brushed a strand of hair off of Eve’s face. “Why are you so worried? Because of this Carolyn? Because Konstantin is gone? Or,” the smile that had crossed her face when she’d realised Eve was wearing her perfume appeared. “because you have to share a bed with me?” She leant in suddenly, her breath ghosting across Eve’s lips.

She wasn’t going to kiss Eve. Eve knew this by now. Not unless Eve asked. Or Eve kissed her first. But she could sure as hell still tease the fuck out of her. Eve slumped forward, crashing into Villanelle’s shoulder. The assassin rocked on her feet slightly, bemused.

“Are you tired?” she asked quietly.

“Ha!” Eve acknowledged the reference. How odd, that such innocent phrases now reminded her of awful things. “Yes.” She snaked her arms around Villanelle’s waist, hugging her gently. “Ow!” She had expected indifference, smugness, possibly even a return hug but not for Villanelle to fight her way out of the embrace as if she were a cat being over-zealously held by a stranger. Villanelle had claws too. Eve stared at the scratch on her arm, felt the sting of one on her face from Villanelle’s nails. Villanelle looked furious. She lashed out.

 

Konstantin walked in to find Eve nursing a black eye and Villanelle gripping her abdomen and hissing in pain. He sighed, walking straight into the kitchen. Apparently, such a scene didn’t even warrant an eye roll. He’d been expecting something like that, Eve realised.

“I have wine.” He called out to her, hooking a glass from the cupboard and pouring Eve some. It was cheap, from the smell, but not paint stripper. She knocked it back in one swig. Took the bottle and refilled her glass, then took the glass and the bottle and stormed off to the bedroom. She heard faint conversation. A question. A protest. A yelp of pain. She drank more wine. She had to remember, she told herself. Villanelle was a psychopath. An assassin. Touchy feely wasn’t something to expect. She could do with the comfort of a hug though. It’d been in short supply recently. Even before everything. When was the last time she’d hugged Niko? Before Bill had been murdered. He hadn’t just died. Villanelle had killed him. Important to remember things like that. After that, she’d spurned his comfort, spurned tenderness, almost as viciously as Villanelle had. She remembered how disgusted she’d been with Frank, when Carolyn had had to hug him, and felt briefly, a miniscule amount of sympathy. It didn’t last long. He was just _such_ a dickswab. Was being the operative word. Important to remember that too. She drank more wine.

“Give me some.” Villanelle commanded imperiously as she strode into the bedroom.

“Oops.” Eve raised the bottle to her lips and finished it.

Villanelle scoffed. “You pig.”

She disappeared. Came back with another bottle, followed by a warning shout from Konstantin. “Budge over.”

Eve reluctantly moved to one side. The right side this time. Villanelle didn’t argue, plopped down next to her. Drank intermittently. Eve thrust her glass out and Villanelle filled it for her. They drank together in silence.

When the second bottle was finished, Eve found her pyjamas, got dressed, went to get into bed to find Villanelle now on her side. She shrugged, went to the left side instead. After that brief moment of nausea, she felt she could handle the memories now. Would she laugh about them in the future? With Villanelle? “Remember that time…” She curled up. Heard the rustle of clothes being discarded and put on, felt the duvet lift and then a warm body tuck behind hers, slipping an arm over her waist, another under her head, warm breath tickling her nape, where someone had buried their face in her hair. It was comfortable, if not comforting. She couldn’t entirely relax when Villanelle was embracing her like that. But the wine and the warmth washed over her and sent her to sleep.

 

Eve was startled awake by a scream. She jerked upright, trying to shake off sleep (and the remnants of the wine) and realised it was Villanelle, still lying behind her. She bolted upright.

“Vil? Vil??” she shook the screaming woman, rolling onto her knees. “Oh god. Oh my god! KONSTANTIN!” She bellowed for the man sleeping in the next room. “Oh my god. What’s wrong? Say something!”

Konstantin burst into the bedroom, nearly doubled back at the sight of Eve in her pyjama top and boxers. “No wait!” he excused himself. “This is important! Villanelle! What is it? What’s the matter?”

“SHE LED ON MY ARM!” Villanelle screamed, rolling onto her back and clutching at it.

“What?”

“What??”

“YOU LED ON MY ARM ALL NIGHT AND NOW I CAN’T FEEL IT.” She was rubbing it desperately.

“Is that IT??” Eve hit her with a pillow. “Stop screaming!!”

“IT HURTS.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t feel it.” Konstantin folded his arms.

“It’s coming back. You are both really unsympathetic!” Villanelle pouted.

Eve flopped down beside her. “God you’re such a dick. I thought someone had got you.”

“Will you kiss it better?”

“Get wrecked.”

“If that’s all ladies?” Konstantin rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah I think we’re good.” Eve waved him away.

Villanelle was still holding an arm in her face. Eve pushed it out the way and got back up, thinking to clean her teeth, wash her face, try and wake up in a better way.

“Will you kiss me?”

Eve turned, shocked at the question. Villanelle was sat cross legged on the bed staring at her.

“What? I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me, but you haven’t. I got bored.” Villanelle shrugged.

“Why would I kiss you?” Eve forced a laugh.

“You like me.”

“Hah. I do _not_ like you.”

“Yes you doooo.” Villanelle drawled. “You just don’t like that you like me.”

“Okay you lost me.” Eve walked into the bathroom to find out if they’d supplied toothbrushes.

“Admit it.” Villanelle called after her. “You can’t handle the fact that you like me.”

“Whhh?” she jammed a toothbrush in her mouth, started scrubbing aggressively.

“‘Oh my god I’m in love with a psychopath assassin, this goes against all my precious morals what do I do? Oh no!’” Villanelle gasped dramatically, falling back onto the bed.

“Pff ff!!” Eve ducked back into the bedroom, with her mouth full of foam, resorted to hand gestures to convey her point. But Villanelle had hit a nerve. Eve wasn’t supremely at ease about her feelings for Villanelle. She spat, put the toothbrush back in its holder, splashed her face with cold water.

“Anna agonised over her feelings too. Well for her it was ‘oh no I’m in love with a student and a woman’. But she had sex with me anyway.”

“Well I’m not Anna.” Eve dried her face roughly on the towel.

“No. You managed to stab me.” Villanelle grinned at her.

“Yes.” Eve said calmly. She grabbed her suitcase, overcome by the need to get away from Villanelle.

“Hey, where are you going?” unseen by Eve, Villanelle suddenly looked unnerved.

“I’m going home.” Eve went to open the door, but Villanelle was already there, quick as a flash, keeping the handle pulled up.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Eve wrenched her hand from Villanelle’s grasp, accidentally hitting her in the stomach, as she spun round.

Villanelle grunted in pain. “Ow. Okay. You want to fight.” She clutched at the knife wound.

Eve quelled the impulse to shove Villanelle backwards, knock her to the ground, as if this was a playground fight. But Villanelle was still injured, even if the rictus of pain was put on. And she’d done that. Freaked out about it slightly afterwards, but she’d still done it, planned it. It hadn’t been some small experiment in her study, some research on someone else. She, Eve, had tried to kill someone. It wasn’t that she wasn’t comfortable about her feelings for Villanelle, she wasn’t comfortable with that. And yet, she’d always been fascinated by it, by that violence. Maybe this was just the next logical step. She smiled to herself. _I should’ve been a spy._

Out loud, she repeated herself. “I’m going home.” Whatever her next step, there were certain things to sort out, to finish, first.

“You’re leaving me? You’re leaving me??” Villanelle grabbed for the nearest thing, luckily a pillow, and flung it at Eve, who ducked through the doorway.

And ran straight into Carolyn. The mind has a nasty habit of remembering things at such times. Things like “Konstantin said she’d be coming.” and “last time I saw her, she fired me.” It also supplies other uncomfortable thoughts such as “oh god did that pillow hit her?”, “how much did she overhear?” and “I’m only wearing a pyjama top and boxer shorts……”


	6. the tears of the world are a constant quantity. for each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops.

“Ah. Eve. There you are.” Carolyn stared at her, a slight widening of the eyes the only sign that there was anything unusual about this meeting. Eve felt envious of that deep unflappable calm that took even saucy letters being given to an ex-lover in her stride. “Once you’re more…awake, if you could join us in the living room?”

“Uh…” Eve froze as she felt an arm slide across her shoulders and flop down across her chest.

“Nooooo.” Villanelle drawled in her ear. “Come back to bed.”

Eve stared fixedly at Carolyn, who merely raised an eyebrow. “Certainly Carolyn. I will be there in just a few moments.” She looked nowhere except directly into Carolyn’s eyes.

“In a few moments then. Bring your uh…bring Villanelle with you, if you wish.” She gave a nod and turned away.

Eve backed through the doorway and slammed the door shut in front of her before turning to face Villanelle. “What?” the assassin asked, faced with an angry glower.

Eve stomped by her, grabbing some clothes and heading towards the bathroom. “So, you’re choosing her over me?” Villanelle called after her. She fielded an inexpertly thrown shirt.

“Get dressed!” Eve growled. “You’re coming with me.”

Washed, dressed and finally feeling presentable, Eve walked through the door with a little more composure. She had nothing to be afraid of, right? Carolyn had been kind to Frank after all. And Villanelle was behind her. Okay so maybe one thing to be afraid of. But Villanelle seemed more interested in kissing her than killing her currently. And Carolyn was just standing there, opposite the couch, hands in her jacket pocket, staring absentmindedly into mid-air, like she did. Nothing to be nervous about. And Konstantin was stood there, arms folded across his chest, staring intently at the floor.

As they’d clearly left the couch for her, she sat down on it, instantly feeling some empathy with Villanelle’s dislike of being towered over. Villanelle sat down next to her. Really close. Their thighs were touching. Eve nudged the assassin with her elbow.

“What?” Villanelle looked affronted.

She gestured for Villanelle to move up. Villanelle turned to look at the space, looked back at Eve and shook her head, an apologetic smile on her lips.

Carolyn coughed. At some point during this exchange she’d come out of her trance. “So. Who would like to explain exactly what happened? I think I’ve managed to piece together the bare bones, but it’s always good to get the personal insight.”

“She stabbed me.” Villanelle began. “I wasn’t even armed.”

Konstantin’s lips twitched as he looked at Eve.

“Well I…” Eve tried to explain.

“She impersonated a member of the organisation I work for, gained access to my apartment, com- _pletely_ trashed it and then stabbed me when I came home.”

“I tracked her down, yes! And yeah, I got a little mad, but I was scared! She’s an assassin!”

“So, she was threatening you when you stabbed her?” Carolyn asked.

“Uhh…”

“We were lying in bed together.” Villanelle cut back in. “About to kiss.”

Konstantin was shaking with repressed laughter by now.

“So. You disobeyed direct orders to return to England, instead tracking down Villanelle by means of covert infiltration into an organised crime ring, gaining access to their information, and Villanelle’s apartment…”

“Which she then trashed.”

“I threw a couple of champagne bottles.”

“Smashed. She smashed them. Glass _ev_ erywhere. Threw all my make-up on the floor. Ripped all my clothes out my wardrobe.”

“Some of them were _my_ clothes!”

“Wrecked the apartment,” Carolyn deftly put an end to the argument. “then when Villanelle came home, you?”

Eve was beginning to feel less like she was being interrogated by a member of MI6 and more like she was being grilled by a head teacher. Perhaps that’s what Carolyn thought she needed, instead of a hug.

“Pointed a gun at me.” Villanelle was busy talking again. “I was unarmed, did I mention? Got me to sit down. She led down on my bed. I got the gun. I led down next to her and put the gun down and then went to kiss her. And she stabbed me.”

“So, you got an international assassin to lower their guard long enough to attempt to murder them?”

“Yes! Okay. Yes. That’s it. That’s what happene.” Eve couldn’t deny that that was pretty much what had happened.

Carolyn nodded. “Impressive.”

“What?”

“I thought so too.” Villanelle nodded back at Carolyn in agreement.

“Well, as we don’t need to track down Villanelle anymore, I can’t give you your old job back but MI6 could use someone with that kind of determination, quick thinking and grit.”

“I…you…”

“Think it over, will you? I’ll leave you with Konstantin for now.”

“Wait you…” Eve stood up, went to grab Carolyn’s arm and thought better of it.

She turned back round to face Eve, pointing a finger at her curiously. “Have you ever considered being a spy?”

It appeared to be a serious question. Eve shrugged. “Yes? I mean, yeah. As a dream. You know, I thought…I could be good at it.”

“Hm.” Carolyn gave a quick approving smile, nodded to Villanelle and grasped Konstantin’s hand before walking towards the door. “Oh! Keep your uh…keep her in check, will you?” she gestured carelessly at Villanelle. Eve looked down into a challenging smirk. “She’s your responsibility.”

Eve groaned loudly as the door shut behind Carolyn and flopped back down next to Villanelle. “Don’t even start.”

Villanelle didn’t have time to reply because a phone rang. Eve realised it was hers. She looked at the screen blankly for a second and then realised the name that had come up.

“Niko??” she shot up off the sofa, hitting the answer icon. “Niko! Oh! Oh my god. Darling! Hi! Hiiii!”

Villanelle scowled.

“Yes. No. I’m back in England. I uh think I just got a promotion at work. Yes. No! I went to France. I needed to think some things over. Uh huh. Oh! Well that’s good. No. Um. Sure. We could meet up. Now? Yes. No. I understand…”

Villanelle plucked the phone from Eve’s grasp. “Hi Niko!” she said in her fake British accent. “Do you remember me? I broke into your house one time and ate your shepherd’s pie with your wife.”

Eve unfroze and whirled around to try and grab her phone back, but Villanelle had already jumped onto the sofa, darting across the cushions.

“Hey, I have to sleep on that!” Konstantin protested.

“GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING PHONE!!” Eve screamed, chasing after her.

“Yes. She was in France, in my apartment.” Villanelle ducked under Eve’s arm, tripping her up. Eve sprawled on the floor, temporarily winded. “We were about to have sex and she stabbed me. Can you believe that?”

“Don’t tell him that!” Eve gasped out, struggling to her feet.

“I know. Shocked me too. So rude.” Villanelle hid behind Konstantin, grabbing him round the throat with her free arm. “She’s trying to kill me now as well. Violent _,_ isn’t she. Oh, okay.” She let Konstantin go and handed the phone back to Eve. “He wants to talk to you again.” She made a face as Eve grabbed it.

“Honey! Don’t beli…well yes, I was in her apartment. No. We were not!! It…I was getting her to lower her guard! …well yes to kill her…no! No it wasn’t like that.”

“IT WAS!!” Villanelle bellowed over Eve’s shoulder, getting an elbow to the stomach for the trouble. She doubled up, gasping in pain. “THAT HURT!!”

“What? No. She was being a pain in the ass so I… No I did not!! Well fine! Fuck you! I WILL BE HAPPY WITH HER!!” Eve jabbed at the disconnect button and threw the phone across the room, breathing heavily and shaking with anger.

Konstantin was watching them both with an air of someone watching a very interesting soap opera. He stroked his beard.

Villanelle looked stunned. Leaned back as Eve spun round, her hand outstretched for Villanelle’s throat. “I know. I lost you your husband. But hey. At least you got your job back.” She quipped. “Unlike other people that you’re about to strangle.” She raised her hands slowly.

“You. Little. Prick!” Eve lowered her hand, tried to control her breathing.

“What? Because I told him the truth? Told Carolyn the truth? You can’t base any kind of relationship upon lies, you know.” Villanelle said, being offensively reasonable.

“You base every relationship on lies!” Eve spat at her.

“No, I don’t.”

“You do lie.” Konstantin piped up. “But you’re very obvious about it.” He added when Villanelle looked hurt at the betrayal.

“Thank you! See? Or were you going to try and go back to him? With his boring little bridge games and his tasty shepherd’s pie? After everything?” Villanelle smirked.

“I don’t know.” Eve sagged. “I just wanted an opportunity to …I dunno. Do the right thing. Treat him decently for once.”

“Well, you didn’t stab him, I’d say you’re treating him better than me.” Villanelle scoffed. “Do you really think we can be happy together?”

“No. I damn well don’t!” Eve pushed past her, grabbed her suitcase and tried to leave.

“You’re still leaving?”

“Well you’re right, aren’t you? Not the best start to a relationship, one person killing the other person’s best friend, resulting in that person stabbing the other. And a spy and an assassin, together?”

“It can work out sometimes.” Konstantin called out.

“Like between you and Carolyn?” Eve spun round to face him.

He shrugged.

“Wait.” Villanelle’s jaw dropped. “You and Carolyn?? The lady who came to see me in jail? The one who just left?”

Konstantin realised what he’d admitted and winced.

“Wow. And you have a wife and child.” Villanelle shook her head.

“It was before!” he explained.

“Uh huh.” Eve said in a flat voice. “Like when you were in her hotel room in Russia after Villanelle tried to kill you.” she sniffed, made a show of studying her nails.

Villanelle gaped in mock shock, a hand placed over her heart, staring between Eve and Konstantin.

“Nothing happened! I was just there because she was the only one I could trust!”

“Uh huh.” Eve grabbed her suitcase. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to start my new job as a spy. Who knows. Maybe I’ll have to sleep with Villanelle one day to get information out of her. Until then.”

“Wait. You’re actually leaving?”  

Konstantin saw the expression of Villanelle’s face, that rare awkwardness, that unnervedness. He’d only ever seen it once. When he’d been training Villanelle. She’d tried something and got it completely wrong. Also rare. He’d made a joke and it was the closest thing to being upset he’d ever seen her. _Oh dear._

“Why…no _how_ are you surprised at that?”

“What? So you got your job back, dealt with your husband, so that’s it?”

“Um. Yes. I mean, there wasn’t even an it.” Eve laughed nervously. She watched in surprise at Villanelle’s reaction. The strange scowling, the clenching of the jaw, the twitches of the lips and the nose, suddenly everything was alive in Villanelle’s expression.

_“I really liked you.”_

Oh. Shit.

_“Do you trust me?”_

Ohhhhh. Really, really shit.

Suddenly Villanelle was grinning at her, like a shark, or how she imagined a shark would grin. Moving towards her. With a knife. Where _did_ she even keep those?

Oh no wait. Scratch all those moments just now. This is the big Oh shiiiiiiiit.

She saw Konstantin move forward, as she stepped backward, tripping over her own suitcase and ending up sprawled on the floor.

Villanelle knelt down beside her, leaned in close, the knife point waving in front of her eyes.

“You know.” She was still grinning. “I think it hurt less when you stabbed me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I am becoming that Elena Eve exchange in S1 with my fanfic writing 
> 
> "I have no idea what I do here. Get me a croissant."


	7. in the meantime let us try and converse calmly, since we are incapable of keeping silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes lets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English place names are beyond words

Villanelle tapped the knife against Eve’s nose. But she had no opportunity to do anything more. Konstantin grabbed her arms from behind and bodily lifted her away, grunting with pain as he did, the action pulling at his newly healed wound. She kicked at his knee and he stumbled but didn’t let her go. Eve panicked her way upright and tried to wrest the knife away from Villanelle.

“I hate you both!!” Villanelle screamed, kneeing Eve in the chin, still struggling against Konstantin’s grip. Eve ignored her aching jaw and focussed on getting the knife, hanging off of Villanelle’s hands, but Villanelle’s fingers were too strong. On instinct she bit them.

“OW!”

The knife was dropped, Eve fumbled for it, grabbed it. Villanelle shoved her head back into Konstantin’s face and he finally dropped her. She landed on all fours, rolling upright. He clutched his nose, groaning and trying to wipe away blood. Eve was stood ready, the knife thrust in front of her. Villanelle just stood there, still grinning, breathing heavily.

“Now why does this seem familiar?”

“Shut up.”

“Aww poor baby, are you having flashbacks again?”

“No.” That surprised Eve, she’d expected them.

“I hate to bring it up, but Carolyn said you were to stay with me. And that Villanelle was your responsibility.” Konstantin dabbed at his nose.

“Hm! Good point.” Villanelle folded her arms and looked accusingly at Eve. She tutted. “Abandoning your responsibilities Eve. Really? Is that any way to start your new job?”

“Um.” a voice from the doorway startled all three of them. “I really hate to ask what’s going on here but…what’s going on here?”

“Elena??” Eve became very aware that there was blood and she was holding a knife. She dropped her hands to her sides.

“So. I heard the gist of the story from Carolyn.” Elena edged in. “Is that her?” she mouthed an OMG at Eve, pointing unsubtly at Villanelle.

“Yes. It’s her.” Villanelle said mockingly, before Eve could say anything.

“The one who killed Bill?”

“Guilty.” Villanelle shrugged.

“And who’s this guy?”

“Konstantin. Pleased to meet you.” He held out a hand, realised it was covered in blood and waved awkwardly instead.

Elena’s eyes flicked from Konstantin, to Villanelle and finally to Eve, who shifted uncomfortably under Elena’s gaze.

“Did you really stab her?” Elena broke the pressing silence.

“Yes.” Villanelle said loudly. “Yes, she did.”

“Were you about to stab her again?” Elena ignored Villanelle, gestured towards the knife still in Eve’s hand.

“Probably.”

“Shut up!” Elena and Eve said at the same time. Konstantin snorted with laughter at Villanelle’s affronted expression. She made a face and took Eve’s suitcase back to the bedroom.

“So. What happened?” Eve began, gesturing at Elena. She realised she was still holding Villanelle’s knife, in the hand that she’d gestured at Elena, and fumbled it onto the coffee table.

“Well.” Elena sat down on the sofa. “Kenny came back to the office, said we were packing up, that everything was done. So, I went home, wondered where you were. Got a knock on the door that evening from Carolyn, she took me out to some weird coffee and vinyl bar, kept talking to me about different bands but in between that, asked if I’d like to be her personal assistant. Said yes in an instant. Been doing that ever since, as well as trying to find out where you were.”

“How did you find that hard? I found her in like an hour.” Villanelle scoffed, coming back into the room.

“Stabbing her. I’m seeing why.” Elena nodded slowly.

Eve let out a breathy laugh, relieved at Elena’s light tone.

“Is that really anything to laugh about?” Villanelle retrieved her knife and sat down the other side of Eve, slumping and pressing the point of the blade against her finger tip.

“I think it’s just relief that I’m not calling her as a complete and utter psychopath for stabbing you.” Elena pointed out.

“Mm. Good call. You should never tell a psychopath that they’re a psychopath. It upsets them.”

“I’m not a psychopath!” Eve hit Villanelle on the arm with the back of her hand.

“See?”

Elena stared at Villanelle. Then at Eve. “Well this is weirdly casual. Are you two like…besties now or something? Did you bond over murder weapons?”

“We’re a little more than besties, I think.” Villanelle leaned against Eve and hooked an arm around Eve’s. “We’re sleeping together.”

“SHARING a bed because there isn’t another one.” Eve tried to shake her off. Failed.

“You could’ve taken the couch.”

“Oh my god. Eve. You didn’t!” Elene’s mouth became an O.

“NO!” Eve protested, finally succeeding in pushing Villanelle off of her.

“She wanted to.”

“She killed Bill!”

Eve buried her head in hands. Not that she really thought Konstantin and Villanelle would’ve shared a bed, but Villanelle was annoyingly right. The couch was there as an option. Or the floor. Or telling Villanelle to let go when she’d snuggled up to Eve. It would be nice to think she was caught up in some game Villanelle playing, and she probably was but…she was allowing it too. Her realisation came back to her, that she’d been offered ways out. That there was a way out even now, turning down Carolyn, leaving Villanelle to whatever fate MI6 could come up with. She glanced at Villanelle through her fingers. The woman was right next to her, staring up at the ceiling, flicking the knife blade in and out. It made her heart skip a beat sometimes. After all the excitement of chasing and here she was, real and obnoxious and irritating as ever, but right beside her. She sighed. At least the little prick wasn’t keeping her up at night any more.

“Well you always did have a thing for assassins.” Elena said, noticing Eve staring at Villanelle.

“Wait. I’m not the first?” Villanelle was stunned. “Eve?”

“Oh no. She did like loads of research on all of them. It’s how she started tracking you down. She was always asking me about their breasts. It was so unprofessional.”

Eve stared at Elena, flabbergasted by this false representation and betrayal.

“What? You did. That’s how you figured out it was her. Because that Kasia said she was flat chested.”

“I am not!”

“She’s really not.” Eve shook her head, the response slipping out before she could stop herself.

Elena raised an eyebrow. Villanelle was smirking. Eve felt like walking out the door again. Or attempting to. Each failure to leave just felt like a further confirmation that this was her life now.

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Eve.”

“Ha. Haa. Ha.”

“So. Are we still calling her Villanelle?”

“Seeing as that’s my name.” Villanelle extended a hand.

Elena shook it. “Elena. Please don’t kill me.”

“I thought your name was Fanny?” Eve decided it was time for some pay back.

There was a burst of laughter from the kitchen doorway. Konstantin had come back in, having found a towel to help mop up the blood.

“I’ll try not to.” Villanelle shrugged.

“Why are you here Elena?” Eve asked, realising that it was an important question that she should’ve asked earlier.

“I am here, because you need to be moved to a safer location, all three of you, ready for Villanelle to be interrogated by people that are far scarier than I am.” Elena shuddered slightly, gripping her knees.

Villanelle’s face became a mask. Konstantin looked unnerved but nodded. Eve frowned, filled with sudden concern. Villanelle was _her_ girlfriend, if anyone was going to interrogate her. Maybe she’d be given the job, as part of her new role in MI6. Or maybe Villanelle would be disappeared off and Eve would never see her again. Concern turned to dread at the thought, before Eve caught herself.

“Oh!” Elena got up. “This is like on the down low so I don’t have a huge team with guns waiting to take you down but please co-operate on this, because it will cause a loooot of paperwork. And that’s my job, essentially.”

“Vil?” Eve looked at her.

Her eyes were flicking between Eve and Konstantin. Konstantin knew the expression on Villanelle’s face from the trip to the prison. She didn’t trust the situation and certainly didn’t like the lack of control she had over it. It was the first time Eve had seen Villanelle look unnerved, uncomfortable, like she wanted to run. Acting on a bizarre impulse Eve grasped Villanelle’s hand, gave it a squeeze. Villanelle looked at her, looked at their hands and then gave a deep sigh. “Maybe we should’ve stayed in Paris.” She grumbled.

“The 12 would have got you.” Konstantin waved away such a suggestion, wiping away the last of the blood.

“Well then. Shall we go?” Elena gestured towards the door.

Eve retrieved her suitcase from the bedroom. Villanelle didn’t have any luggage. They might have to make a shopping trip at some point. Or a trip to a laundry. Or something which meant Villanelle wasn’t borrowing Eve’s clothes. She was still sore over seeing so many of them hung up in Villanelle’s wardrobe like that. She wondered briefly if they were still there, scattered all over the floor.

“No.” Villanelle told her, coming into the bedroom and hearing Eve’s question. “They would’ve cleaned up by now. Bye bye, apartment. Bye bye fun job.”

“You said that Carolyn offered you a deal, in prison.” Eve fished for information.

“Yep.” Villanelle gave nothing more away. “You ready?”

 

Elena was driving. Konstantin was riding shotgun. Eve and Villanelle were in the back. Eve wasn’t sure whether this was an attempt by Elena and Konstantin at pairing them up or simply to avoid either of them making a break for it. Villanelle had already tried the car door and discovered the child lock was on.

“Well you are a child.” Eve snorted, when Villanelle complained about it.

The assassin was clearly bored. She sat as far forward as she possibly could against the seatbelt, prodding Konstantin in the shoulder. He pretended to be asleep, even when she blew in his ear. Eve leaned against the car door, staring out the window at the trees on the verge, the cars coming the opposite direction, houses that came and went, all boring and sedate looking. She waited patiently for Villanelle to get bored at irritating Konstantin and to start paying similar attentions to her. Maybe she should just give Villanelle her phone again. She pulled it out, realised she hadn’t charged it and cursed. She wasn’t about to waste her last 10% of battery on games.

“Do you remember when you were driving away from me?” Villanelle thumped back into her seat. “And you stopped.”

“Vividly.” Elena called out from the front.

“Yes. You shot at me when I tried to walk towards you.”

“Why did you?”

Eve didn’t reply. She knew why. But she couldn’t put such a feeling into words. Not ones that made sense and didn’t sound weird.

“We should stop off somewhere, get you some clothes.”

“Yours are fine.” Villanelle tugged at the latest top she’d purloined.

“Really?” That got Konstantin to turn around. “They’re not very you.”

“Well if I’m going to be put in a hole, there’s not much point buying new clothes. And I don’t have any money.”

Villanelle’s declaration cast a sombre mood over the car, and they drove in silence for a while. But it didn’t take long for Villanelle to become bored again. “Are we nearly there yet? We have been driving for hours.”

“We have been driving for 48 minutes.” Konstantin told her.

She groaned dramatically and copied Eve in staring out the window, her knuckles pressed to her mouth. “I…spy…”

“No.” Elena said immediately.

“With my little eye…”

“Villanelle!” Konstantin growled.

“Something beginning with E.” She finished quickly, smirking as the rest of them groaned and swore.

Eve glowered at her. Villanelle pouted in return.

“Where are we going anyway?” Eve asked, as more road signs and villages approached and were passed through. East Hagbourne, Cumnor, Ducklington, Oddington. Villanelle had been sniggering at them. Although the most recent turn off, for Upper Slaughter and Lower Slaughter, made Villanelle stare questioningly at Eve. She’d shrugged. Maybe they didn’t have names like that in Paris. She was getting bored too. It felt like they’d been driving for hours to her now as well. She checked her dying phone. They had been. And now they were on a stretch of road with nothing but fields either side.

“I need to pee.” Villanelle piped up before anyone could answer.

“No.”

“I will pee in your car!”

“We are nearly there!” Konstantin threw his hands in the air.

“And we are certainly not stopping anyway.”

Villanelle slumped moodily back in her seat, occasionally kicking the back of Konstantin’s. Eve wasn’t about to admit it, but she wouldn’t have exactly minded a toilet break either. She shifted. Tried to relieve the cramp in her butt and her feet. Tried to ignore the fact that breakfast hadn’t happened. They passed through a small village, then another, Eve staring wistfully at the pubs. Tried not to remember Frank getting so happy about his brown sauce. She was aware that at some point she’d probably be interrogated too. Not that she had much to tell. Apart from stabbing Villanelle. Which apparently everyone knew. Probably thanks to Konstantin, she realised. Villanelle would’ve told Konstantin everything when she left him that message. And then he’d have told Carolyn “the bare bones”. And, of course, Carolyn would’ve mentioned that to Elena.

Bury End. Wickhamford. She stared unbelieving, at the sign post that declared Evesham.

“You have a town named after you?” Villanelle smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly waiting for godot is a TREASURE TROVE of chapter titles I'm so glad I went with this as a thing i have like four chapters planned out now just from the quotes as titles


	8. what do we do now? wait. yes, but while waiting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gratuitous domesticity mainly

Of all the places, Eve got the feeling Carolyn had picked this one deliberately. Possibly for her. Possibly for Villanelle. To amuse the assassin. If so, it was working. Or it had worked. For five seconds.

“I’m hungry.” Villanelle tapped Konstantin on his bald spot.

“Sit down. We’re nearly there.”

They twisted through residential streets, finally parking up outside a nondescript looking bungalow. Konstantin got out, shot one last warning glance at Villanelle through the car window and then opened the door for her. Elena did Eve the honours, linking arms with her as they followed Konstantin and Villanelle up the garden path. Konstantin stood aside to let Elena open the door, keeping a tight hold on Villanelle’s arm. She didn’t look impressed at the circumstances, nor the bungalow. The door opened up onto a poky hallway with four doorways leading off it. At least it didn’t smell, Eve thought, as she looked through the first doorway into a tiny kitchen, through the second into a bathroom. With a bath as well. She felt in desperate need of one. The third doorway led onto a room with a couch and a dining table and two chairs. With a sinking heart, Eve opened the last door to find a double bed. Of course. She threw her bag onto it and followed it as Villanelle came in with her suitcase.

“Carolyn thought you’d be safer off in the country.” Elena said from the doorway.

“Like Frank?” Eve snorted cynically.

“Well. Villanelle’s here now. And they won’t have any way to trace us here. No financial records. Phone calls. Don’t! Phone. Anyone. Obviously. I mean I think they disconnected the line anyway but…”

“My phone just died anyway.” Eve flung it on the bed side cabinet.

“So, you’re just leaving us here? No guard? No nothing?” Villanelle asked.

“If you remember the terms of the deal…” Elena waggled her eyebrows meaningfully.

Villanelle twitched, her face twisting for a second, but she nodded.

“So, you’ll stay here then. There’s food. Water. It’s house arrest. No contact with the outside world.” Elena picked up Eve’s phone and dropped it into her handbag.

“Did you get croissants?” Eve asked, half joking.

“Um. No. Just cereal, I think.”

Villanelle let out a dramatic groan.

“Well at least one of us can sleep on the couch now.” Eve sighed.

“What??” Villanelle looked hurt.

“Well, you and I can share a bed.” Konstantin teased Villanelle.

“No. I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Well fine, you take the couch and Eve and I…”

“No.” Villanelle made to grab him, but he held up his hands, surrendering.

“Relax. Relax. I am going back with Elena anyway. It is best for us not to be together all the time.”

“Wait, you’re just leaving me here with an assassin?? An actual assassin?” Eve gaped at them both, as they headed back down the hallway.

“Your fantasy made real.” Elena shrugged, clearly thinking it was only half a joke. “There’s deliveries of groceries. Hope one of you can cook.” She grinned at Eve.

“What if we need to contact you? In an emergency?”

“There’s an old payphone up the road. There’s a number in it. But for emergencies only! Not just because you had an argument.” Konstantin wagged an admonishing finger between the two of them.

“Bye!” Elena waved and shut the door behind her.

Eve stood in stunned silence for a minute. Villanelle flashed her an apologetic smile, but she merely snorted and flopped back on the bed face down. She missed the contortions on Villanelle’s face as the assassin sat down carefully on the end of the bed.

“Come on Eve. It will be fun.” Villanelle looked over her shoulder at the unmoving woman. “Like a sleepover!” there was no response. “I will make you dinner?”

That got Eve to turn her face to look at her through a curtain of hair. “You can cook?”

Villanelle tucked strands of hair behind Eve’s ear. “Yes.”

“Are you scared?”

“Of cooking?”

“Of being interrogated.”

Villanelle sighed heavily, got up and walked over to the chest of drawers. She opened the first one, found boxer shorts and granny knickers. The second yielded white vests and lacy blouses. The third beige slacks and grey trousers. They were far too big for Villanelle.

“Does this place belong to old people?” she held up a large blue men’s pyjama top, turned around to show Eve. Eve crawled off the bed, turning to the wardrobe. Various sensible jackets hung up and men’s shirts. No ties she noticed. At the bottom were a pair of threadbare slippers and a couple of pairs of battered orthopaedic shoes.

“You think they’ll deliver clothes with the groceries?” Eve asked, wandering towards the kitchen, desperately hoping that they at least had given them a washing machine. And if they had, tablets to go in it. “Hm!” she smiled, surprised. Even fabric softener. “Want to do some clothes washing?” she held it up to Villanelle.

“Your clothes.” Villanelle shrugged.

“Leave them in a pile then.” Eve retrieved her suitcase and dug through it for all the old underwear and shirts. Had it been that long since they’d left Paris? She couldn’t remember. It seemed like weeks. Being shunted around the country had messed with her sense of time.

Villanelle disappeared into the bedroom and a pile of clothes was flung towards the kitchen doorway. Eve bundled them all in, popped a tablet in the tray and set it going. She’d wash the clothes she had on later. She wandered into the living room and realised there was a second door. It led out onto a tiny patch of garden with a turning washing line standing at a drunken angle in the middle. The wooden fence was high and even taller trees surrounded it. Secretive place. There was no gate, no gap in the fence. It felt nice to be outside, to breath fresh air, a temporary peace. Her stomach grumbled at her and she went back in, wondering if Villanelle really would cook. Eve _could_ cook, but not without a phone to google recipes. The assassin was lounging on the couch in the over-large pyjama top, reading a book she’d found from somewhere. She was even wearing reading glasses, which Eve highly doubted she needed. Eve peered at the book. It was a Mills and Boons.

“Yes. They go all the way down.”

“What?” Eve was startled out of her observation of the cover.

“My legs.”

“I was looking at the _book_.”

“Oh?” Villanelle sounded put out. “It’s bad. Very heterosexual and boring.” She flung it across the room. The living room didn’t even have a TV. Just a small sideboard cabinet with a row of books in between two horse head shaped bookends. Eve picked one up. It was heavy, which surprised her. She glanced cautiously over her shoulder at Villanelle, still sprawled. Her eyes were closed, the glasses dangling from a hand. She looked strangely peaceful; her usual constant energy relaxed. It seemed rude to bring up dinner and disturb her. She replaced the book end, wincing at the obvious clunk. Villanelle was alert again in an instant, swinging herself upright. The assassin stood right in front of her, close, reaching round her to pick up the book end, giving Eve a knowing smile as she hefted it.

“Good weight for bashing someone round the head.”

“You think so too?” Eve tried to say brightly. She could feel goose bumps under her shirt sleeves. She shivered involuntarily.

“Are you afraid?”

God, she looked so smug again. But Eve had stabbed her now. She pushed back, stood nose to nose with Villanelle. “No.” Mimicking Villanelle on that now far distant day in her kitchen, Eve bent her head, pressed her nose close to Villanelle’s neck and inhaled. They were close enough that she could sense Villanelle freeze. She opened her mouth, grazing Villanelle’s neck with her teeth before biting down and sucking hard. She heard a thunk as Villanelle dropped the marble horse head onto the floor, a barely audible intake of breath. She stood upright, glowered at the dumbfounded assassin and pushed past her, picking up the Mills & Boons novel and throwing herself on the sofa, watching Villanelle over the top of the book.

The young woman slowly raised a hand to her neck, then stalked out the room. Eve heard a howl of rage before Villanelle stormed back in. “You gave me a fucking _hickey_?” she grabbed one of the back cushions off the sofa and threw it expertly at Eve’s head.

“Oof. Ow!” Eve protested from underneath it. “They’re called love bites in England.”

Villanelle stopped, mid-swing of one of the dining chairs. “You bit me because you love me?” She had a curious smile on her face. She put the chair down.

“No!” Eve shoved the cushion off her onto the floor. “No. It’s a phrase. It…it’s an expression!” Eve stuttered. “It…”

“Hm.” Villanelle ignored her, walking out the door with a bounce in her step, her fingers touching the love bite. “I will make us dinner.” She called back over her shoulder.

“Oh god.” Eve whispered, sitting up and burying her face in her hands. Villanelle could even twist words to her advantage. She peered at the bare wooden table, then at the sideboard. There were two drawers, one full of cutlery, no sharp knives though, in the other a lace edged tablecloth. The cabinet underneath had fine china and board games. Eve smiled ironically at the battered Cluedo box.

“Eve!” Villanelle called out from the kitchen.

“Mm?”

“I can’t find any plates.”

“They’re in here.” She called back, unfolding the table cloth and shaking it out. Caught herself in a bizarre moment of domesticity. Grimaced. But she laid the table anyways before heading into the kitchen. Villanelle had found a faded flowery apron and was wearing it over her pyjama top. She’d tied her hair back in a loose pony tail with an elastic band. She danced a little as she tipped chopped vegetables into a pan.

“Um. What are you making?” Already there was an appetising smell in the air.

“I don’t know. Something tasty. Something with vegetables.”

Eve fought the urge to take a step back as Villanelle picked up a dull looking knife with a rounded point.

“I know.” She followed Eve’s gaze. “It’s like they don’t trust us or something. This is all I have to cut stuff up with.” She hacked at a tomato.

“It’s insulting.” Eve nodded.

“Hm?” That got Villanelle’s attention.

“Like you couldn’t kill me in a thousand different ways with multiple seemingly innocent things around the house?”

“Exactly! In prison, when I was in the Hole?” Villanelle put the knife down and leant against the counter next to Eve. “They put me in there with this reeeeal psycho. She attacked me when I pretended to fall asleep. So…” Villanelle leant over, her breath hot on Eve’s neck. “I ripped her neck open with my teeth.” Eve could feel Villanelle’s lips move as she talked, could well imagine Villanelle doing exactly that. Wondered if Villanelle had thought Eve was going to do that to her, when she’d given her a love bite. But the assassin didn’t even return the favour, moved back to the chopping board. “I could kill you with my bare hands.” Villanelle continued. “And they blunt the knife.” She shook her head as she picked it up.

And they’d left her alone with Villanelle. Was this a test? If you can keep control of her for a week, then welcome to the team? Were MI6 planning on recruiting Villanelle? She had no intention of becoming Villanelle’s handler. She didn’t think anyone could handle Villanelle.

“Don’t worry. I promised, remember?”

Because that was so reassuring. Then again, Villanelle thought ‘sorry baby x’ was an apology. Maybe she really meant that promise. Who knew with a psychopath? Important to remember that. Psychopath. She was finding it increasingly difficult. Villanelle had killed Bill. That was important to remember too. Even Bill who had said yes to everything… then again, he’d never explicitly detailed what everything was. Eve didn’t feel she’d led an exciting enough life to really imagine fully what ‘everything’ entailed. The washing was spinning, over-riding any further conversation so Eve wandered back into the bedroom, debating unpacking her suitcase, going for a shower or whether to wait until after dinner and have a bath instead.

The dinner was simple, surprisingly. Pasta and a sauce.

“They gave me very little to work with.” Villanelle shrugged, almost apologetic.

“It smells great.” Eve had ended up doing nothing except wandering about the garden and putting the washing in the tumble dryer. She’d been distracted by the realisation that Villanelle’s underwear had been in that pile…

They ate in silence, but something was troubling Eve. She waited until they’d finished. She did the washing up whilst Villanelle impatiently kept on checking the tumble dryer every five minutes.

“What was the Hole?” she asked, once the sink had drained.

“Solitary confinement.” Villanelle shut the door again with a sigh.

Eve frowned. “So why was som…”

“They put her in there to kill me.”

“Oh.”

“Are you feeling sorry for me?”

“No.” Eve snorted. “I can understand them wanting to kill you. Tell me about prison.”

Eve listened with horrified but unsurprised fascination at the blood bath that had been Villanelle’s prison experience.

“Where _did_ you keep the knife?”

“In my trousers.” Villanelle rolled her eyes.

“Hm. I’m going for a bath. Don’t do anything.”

“Can I breathe?”

Eve pretended to contemplate this. “Okay. But slowly.”

She was actually breathing slowly, Eve realised, as she looked over her shoulder at the statue still woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point I feel I'm not taking this fic seriously I'm just having fun...


	9. why will you never let me sleep? i'm lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> be gay do crimes?

“Hey Eve?” Villanelle called from the bathroom.

Eve stopped combing her wet hair. The assassin sounded strange. “Ye-eess?” she drawled warily.

“Did they say anything about that grocery parcel containing tampons?”

“Um. No. Why?” She frowned.

“Because someone stabbed me while I was in the bath and there is a loooot of blood.”

“What?” Eve flung her comb down on the bed and strode to the bathroom door, flinging it open without thinking.

“Hm. This seems familiar. You. Me. Blood everywhere.” Villanelle grinned as Eve’s face went through a series of expressions. She was sat on the toilet, dressed once more in her pyjama top, holding a wad of bloody toilet tissue in one hand.

“Um…”

“I’m on my period. They seriously didn’t put anything here?”

“Lemme j…let me check the uh…” Eve turned and fled into the kitchen. She rummaged through a variety of drawers, but only found cleaning stuff. She tried the bedroom, flinging clothes onto the bed. What the hell was she going to do if they couldn’t find anything? She couldn’t ring the damn phone about this but at the same time toilet paper was hardly going to suffice for long. Her heart sank as each moment passed but eventually, she conceded defeat and walked slowly back to the bathroom. She checked the cabinets herself whilst Villanelle watched, frowning. Just to make sure.

“Still nothing? Ha. This was set up by a man. Even Konstantin would know better.” Villanelle tutted.

Eve groaned. “Look. There’s got to be a shop around here somewhere. _I_ will go look for it. _You_ will stay here.” Even as she said it, she realised the extreme unlikelihood of that happening.

“I can’t exactly go very far like this, now can I?” Villanelle gestured to herself.

Eve merely grunted in reply. She wouldn’t put anything past her.

“When you get to the shop, what are you going to pay them with?” Villanelle called after her.

 _And so, this is how I descend into a life of crime._ Eve thought as she tried to stroll casually down the darkening street. _Stealing tampons for an assassin._ Although, she realised, stabbing someone could be seen as being rather deep in the life of crime already. She sighed. If they didn’t want to risk being traced by anyone, no financial interactions of any sort. She couldn’t even take money out. And, seeing as she used her card for everything these days, the only change she had was a few bits of loose change. Not enough to buy tampons with. “They should give them out for free. Luxury item my ass.” Eve muttered. She was getting lost and she still hadn’t found a shop and with every minute spent away from the bungalow it was increasingly likely Villanelle had already left. Probably taken her damn suitcase again too.

Eventually she gave in, asked someone and got pointed in the direction. Luckily it was a small corner store, no security guards, only a sleepy looking cashier who looked to be watching something on her phone. She wandered round for a bit, as if looking for something in particular, swiping a box of mixed tampons from the shelf and into her pocket, before going up to the cashier.

“Hiiii. I’m sorry. You wouldn’t happen to have any tights, would you? Mine got a ladder and I need some for an interview tomorrow.” Eve already knew full well they didn’t but let her shoulders slump at the cashier’s apology. “Thanks anyway. Have a good evening.” She smiled politely and with an air of disappointment, walked out the door.

She strode back, trying to remember the way, her heart beating hard. It had been so easy. Now if only a certain assassin was where she’d left her…

The bathroom was empty. The rest of the bungalow, as Eve wearily checked it, was also empty. The garden, empty as well. The only small blessing was that her suitcase was still there.

She sat down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands, her fingers dragging at her hair. She let out a muffled scream, grabbing a cushion and flinging it across the room at the cabinet with the books on it, sending the horse head book ends crashing to the floor. They didn’t break which disappointed her, so she picked one up and threw it hard at the wall. It chipped the plaster but didn’t break. Enraged by this failure she grabbed one of the wooden dining chairs and smashed it into the door frame, feeling a surge of satisfaction as the wood splintered. “Ha!” she cried, flipping the table over, sending the nice lacy table cloth and the flowery table mats all over the floor. She picked up the table cloth and tried to rip it but the lace embroidery was surprisingly strong. Denied satisfaction, she wrenched open the sideboard and started grabbing the plates.

“What are you doing?”

Eve spun round at the familiar Russian accent, dropping the plate she’d been holding, wincing as it clattered on the floor and broke.

Villanelle was gazing around the room and its current state of half destruction. She tutted. “I can’t take you anywhere. Did you get my tampons at least?”

Eve wrenched the box out of her pocket and flung them at the assassin, who had the audacity to catch it in one hand. “Thank you, Eve!” she smiled happily and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Where the hell were you??” Eve bellowed after her. Villanelle had already locked the door. Eve pounded on it with her fist. “Open the fucking door and tell me where you were!”

“Right at this moment?”

Eve took a few deep breaths to collect herself. “Come out. When you’re ready. And ex _-plain_.”

“Okay!”

It was a crime that Villanelle sounded so cheerful. She was on her period, wasn’t she? Eve righted the table, kicked the splintered chair out into the garden and shoved everything else back into the cabinet. She was just picking up the remaining splinters when Villanelle walked back in, looking outrageously good in beige slacks, a cream shirt and light brown cardigan.

“I know right?” Villanelle plucked at the shirt. “50 shades of beige. Too awful. But your clothes weren’t dry yet.” She grimaced at the cardigan and discarded it on the sofa.

“Where. Were. You.”

“I got you a present! Wait there.” Villanelle was practically bouncing as she walked into the kitchen. “Ta-da!”

It was an old record player. Eve watched as she plugged it into a socket. “I got records too.” She waved a handful of large square sleeves.

“You…where…oh god.” Eve slumped back on the sofa.

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun, stealing things.” Villanelle shrugged. She picked an LP, slid it out the sleeve and placed it delicately on the player. She checked the sleeve, smiled to herself and placed the needle down in the groove.

“I don’t want to set the world on fire…” the singer crooned.

Villanelle stood up and held out her hand. “Dance with me.”

Eve looked at her in disbelief.

“Come on! Dance with me.”

Eve resolutely folded her arms.

Villanelle sashayed her way in front of Eve and dragged her upright. Eve relented and held Villanelle’s hand and put her other hand on Villanelle’s waist. Villanelle tried to lead but Eve glowered at her and she shrugged, pressing herself close to Eve, resting her chin on Eve’s shoulder and letting Eve sway them gently round in a circle.

“I don’t want to set the world on fiiiree…” Villanelle warbled off-key in Eve’s ear.

“Yeah right. Isn’t that kind of your thing?” Eve snorted but didn’t break the dance, enjoying the song and the crackle of the needle on the LP.

“Aww Eve. Don’t you know me better than that by now?” Villanelle leant back and pouted. She mouthed along to the lyrics.

“Ha.”

Villanelle huffed and dropped her arms to her side, grimacing. The song ended and she took the needle off the record, dropping the room into an uncomfortable silence.

“Uh…”

Villanelle let out a loud groan and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Vil?” Eve panicked and knelt down next to her. “Vil??”

The assassin rolled onto her back, clutching her stomach. “It hurts…”

“Oh! Oh.” Eve let out a low chuckle in relief. “Hey. This is familiar too.”

“Are you joking about stabbing me?” Villanelle looked up at her in awe.

“Uhh. Yes. I was kind of wondering which hurt more. Do you get bad cramps every time?”

Villanelle made an unintelligible noise.

“Y’know um…” Eve stopped, wondering whether she should mention Niko and decided against it. “I always found back massages were great for…”

Villanelle was already looking at her, eyes sparkling with pleading hope. “Back massages?”

Eve gestured for her to flip over onto her front. Villanelle swiftly acquiesced. Eve took a deep breath. Her sympathy had gotten the better of her. Or else she just wanted to do this. She swung a leg over, straddling Villanelle, sitting back to rest on her heels.

“Do…” her voice sounded strange. She coughed. “Do you want to keep your shirt on?”

“Nope.” Villanelle rested her head on her forearms.

“Okay.” Eve slowly tugged the shirt out of her trousers and rucked it up. She rubbed her hands together, breathing on them, in case they were out of sync with the rest of her body and were somehow cold. She was tentative at first, but when Villanelle didn’t move, she relaxed and found a rhythm, working her hands up and down Villanelle’s back, pushing the shirt over Villanelle’s shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a bra. It would still be drying, Eve realised. She smiled to herself as she felt muscles relax under her hands, saw the occasional deep breath that Villanelle took before relaxing even further. Assassins who killed your best friend should not be allowed to be that cute.

“Are you asleep?” Eve asked, realising the assassin had been unnaturally still for a while. She shook Villanelle’s shoulder. “Vil? Did you fall asleep?”

Villanelle didn’t respond.

“Vil?” Eve went to shake her shoulder again and the assassin jerked round with a scream. Eve screamed and toppled over backwards. Villanelle burst out laughing.

“Ohhh I got you. I got you good.”

“You asshole. You weren’t asleep at all!”

“No. But it was very relaxing. You give good massages.” Villanelle stretched, pulling her shirt all the way down again. “Do you know what else is good for cramps?”

“What?” Eve had a premonition as to what the answer was going to be.

“No. I’m asking you. Do you know?”

“Yes.”

Villanelle looked at her, the picture of innocence. “Well?”

Eve rolled her eyes and stood up. “If you’re going to masturbate, I’m sleeping on the sofa.”

“I can do it on the sofa.” Villanelle shrugged.

“What? No. It’s fine. You…you’re in pain. You can take the bed.” Eve sat down firmly on the sofa.

“Okay.” Villanelle smiled and wandered out.

Eve closed the door to the living room, sat down on the sofa. The silence got to her and she went out into the garden. It was dark now; not much light wash and she could see a few stars. She stared up, wondering where Villanelle had got the LP player from and how they could return it. Thought of the dance. The warmth of Villanelle pressing against her. She wished she had a glass of wine. It would complete the moment. She found herself listening intently for any hint of sound, but there was still only silence. She wondered whether Villanelle was thinking of her. Or whether she’d fallen asleep. Thought about whether anyone would find out about their excursions and whether there’d be trouble in the morning because of them.

She had a feeling there would be and with a small shiver, went back inside. Still silence. She crept awkwardly to the bedroom door and opened it slowly. There was no-one in there.

“What?” she hissed to herself. Oh of course. Now that she had the tampons, now she would leave. “Great. Just great.”

“What is great?”

Eve bit back a scream. “Can you stop doing that?”

“You should pay more attention. And brush your teeth before bed.”

Eve sniffed, smelt a faint odour of mint and realised Villanelle had been in the bathroom, getting changed back into her pyjama top. She stomped there herself, found a toothbrush in a packet, relieved her feelings somewhat by ripping the plastic apart and brushed her teeth vigorously.

Villanelle was curled up on her usual side of the bed. Eve sat down on hers. Well, they’d made it through the first day and difficulties and Villanelle was still there. How long that would last with the assassin’s propensity for getting bored, Eve had no idea. She thought back to the song but there was no way that Villanelle was that romantic. She wasn’t about to stop setting the world on fire just because Eve was with her. Konstantin should’ve stayed with them. Eve didn’t feel she understood Villanelle enough yet to be able to keep her in check. Of course, she could always try using the way Villanelle felt about her, but it left a bad taste in her mouth. She respected the assassin too much to try that. She led back, not undressing or tucking under the covers just yet, trying not to think about what else she felt about Villanelle. Suddenly, she felt Villanelle roll over, tried not to think about the other time the woman had done that. She felt the mattress shift as Villanelle edged near her, stared straight up at the ceiling, wondering what on earth was about to happen. She felt a hand stroke her face, heard Villanelle’s voice asking,

“Do you want to have sex?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire by the Inkspots Gorgeous song. 
> 
> lower back massages are Q's gift for period pains if you can find someone who's good at 'em
> 
> I fear this fic is descending into crack!fic territory but I regret nothing
> 
> the original title of this was "the very look of it made me thirsty" but I'm saving that for later seriously Waiting for Godot is a Trove of chapter titles


	10. let's go. we can't. why not?

Eve snorted. “You’re on your period.” She pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do you. I still haven’t ticked you off my list yet. Doesn’t it reeeally bug you when you haven’t finished your to do list?”

“Not really. Are you finished?” Eve asked drily.

“Guess so.” Villanelle threw the covers back on top of Eve, grabbed her pillows and walked out the door.

Eve stripped down to a vest and her knickers and sprawled across the entire bed. It’d been ages since she’d had a double bed to sleep in all by herself and she relished the space. She couldn’t sleep though, tossing and turning. Jerking awake when she was about to drop off. The little prick was keeping her up yet again it seemed. The thought of Villanelle scrunched up on the sofa bugged her. It wasn’t the largest one after all. And without even a blanket. Eventually she gave in. Muttering all sorts of choice swear words, Eve got up, dragged the duvet from the bed and tiptoed into the living room. She half expected Villanelle to not even be there, but she was, led on sofa cushions on the floor. One arm was tucked underneath the pillow. The other pillow was hugged to her chest. Slowly, Eve grabbed the back cushions from the sofa and shifted them into position next to Villanelle. Biting her lip in case the assassin woke up she draped the duvet over Villanelle and then tucked in underneath it as well, curling up with her back to Villanelle. It wasn’t the most comfortable place she’d ever slept but at least now she felt she could sleep.

It was far too early in the morning when she shivered herself awake. Villanelle, her two pillows and the duvet were gone. Feeling more than a little pissed off at the continuous disappearances, Eve walked into the bedroom where Villanelle was lying spread-eagled over the entire bed, snoring gently.

“Prick.” Eve hissed, grabbing a pillow and thumping it down on the back of Villanelle’s head.

“Owww! What did I do?” Villanelle complained sleepily, rolling over and wrapping more of the duvet around her. Eve thumped the pillow down again and left it there, storming into the kitchen to make coffee. It was cheap instant stuff, the kind they had at work, back in the MI5 offices. She waited for the kettle boil, leaning against the counter, remembering leaning against the counter waiting for the microwave to ding, back at the start of this whole thing. She fumbled around the kitchen looking for something to have for breakfast. Cereal. She remembered seeing it in the cupboards when she was looking for the tampons.

“Ugh.” She grunted in disgust at the own brand cornflakes. It wasn’t even good stuff. She marvelled at Villanelle managing to make something good at all. Not giving them a lot to work with was about right. She poured some into a bowl and leant back against the counter, munching and crunching the dry flakes angrily, washing them down with the shitty coffee.

Villanelle wandered in, twisting her hair up into a knot, dressed in her black jeans and an over-sized blue top with lace edging. She glanced at Eve, then at her breakfast.

“That looks awful.”

“Yeah. Well.” Eve made a face as she swigged the dregs of her coffee. “Help yourself. There’s plenty.”

Villanelle looked in the fridge and made a face. “They didn’t even give us eggs?”

“Nope. They said groceries were being delivered. We can only hope there’s something better on the way.”

Villanelle grinned at her. “Oh Eve. That is so cute.”

“What?”

“You think we have to wait and hope?” Villanelle shook her head.

Eve finally caught on. “No. Don’t you dare. No!” She lurched forward, grabbing at Villanelle’s jumper.

“You really think I am going to eat shitty cornflakes with you?” Villanelle looked at her disbelievingly.

“Thought you said you’d eat anything?” Eve reminded her.

“Only if I don’t have a choice.”

“You could’ve chosen to NOT break into my house.”

“I wanted to have dinner with you! And you were already so nervous. I didn’t want you to feel under pressure.”

“I was feeling nervous because…ugh.” Eve groaned. She wasn’t about to list the reasons why. Villanelle knew damn well why. Took a deep breath. Tried to compose herself. “I can’t just let you waltz out of here. Again. I’m responsible for you!”

“Guess you’ll have to get dressed and come with me then.” Villanelle gently removed Eve’s hand, stepped aside and gestured towards the bedroom.

Eve glowered at her, realised the complete incapability she had of stopping Villanelle and dressed with the rapidity of a panto chorus member doing a quick change, pulling on a pair of trousers and shoes, not bothering to button up her shirt over her vest and running a hand through her hair. She stared at herself, stared at Villanelle, scowled at the fact the young woman was on her period and wearing a granny shirt and still managed to look better than her.

Villanelle still nodded her appreciation and held out her arm. Rolling her eyes, Eve took it and the two of them left, not bothering to lock the door behind them.

“Can I ask where we’re going? And how we know where to go? And how we’re going to afford it when we get there?” Eve asked. She felt tense, despite the beauty of the clear blue sky and early sun, as if assassins were going to leap out at her from behind every bush. Or MI6 agents.

“Mm.” Villanelle pulled a phone out of her pocket and looked at the google maps page. “We could go to a café, but I think probably the best bet is a supermarket.”

Eve wasn’t even surprised. Probably got it at the same time as the LP player. Probably got a credit card to go with it. “Yeah. We can buy wine at the same time.”

“You have a bit of an alcohol problem huh.” Villanelle tutted.

“Says the woman who had a fridge FULL of champagne!”

“Yeah but I only drank it for special occasions.”

“After kills?”

Villanelle shrugged. “And for sex.”

Eve removed her arm from Villanelle’s, folding them so the assassin couldn’t reclaim it. She was also beginning to feel cold and envied Villanelle, who’d grabbed a tweed jacket from the wardrobe of old people clothes. It was far too big and smelled slightly but it would be warm at least. The sun was not yet high enough to give any real warmth. She wrapped the shirt in tighter.

“Are you jealous?”

“No. I just don’t particularly need to hear about your sex life.”

Villanelle scoffed. “It’s not like I was over-sharing, going on about the threesomes and seducing women who were on bus tours.”

Eve struggled not to rise to the bait, but Villanelle was the one paying (or indeed possibly not paying) for breakfast and the cornflakes had done nothing to dent her hunger.

She was nervous when she realised they were going to the same supermarket she’d stolen the tampons from last night, but there was a different person behind the till and it was early enough that the only people there were office and construction workers, buying coffee, cigarettes and meal deals. Villanelle tutted loudly at their lunch choices and Eve could barely stop herself from sniggering. She elbowed Villanelle in the stomach. “We’re here for _our_ breakfast, remember?”

“Hm.” Villanelle perused the meat section.

“What’re you thinking? Full English?”

Villanelle moved away, wandering aimlessly around the shop. Eve followed, confused, until she realised Villanelle was spotting all the cameras. There weren’t any down the home baking aisle. “Pancakes?” Villanelle asked, holding up some flour. She tucked it under the baggy shirt. She lifted down a box of eggs, carefully secreting four in her pockets and holding out another two towards Eve. With a sigh of resignation, Eve hastily buried two into her trouser pockets, glad that she liked wearing loose clothes. After replacing the box back on the shelf Villanelle returned to the chilled aisle, scooped up a carton of milk and headed towards the checkouts. Eve split off from her, returning to the meat section. She pretended to exam a packet of bacon, waited until a tired man in a suit had passed her and then smoothly shoved the packet into the waistband of her trousers, tucking her shirt in as she did. With her hands in her pockets to protect the eggs, she walked out the door, nodding at Villanelle as they met up.

“So how did you pay for the milk?” Eve asked in a low voice, when they were a distance from the shop.

“People are so stupid.” Villanelle pulled the phone out. “They have all these apps now on their phones to pay for stuff. It’s amazing. And they tick the “keep yourself logged in” box. It’s like they’re asking to be robbed.” She threw it in a dog litter bin and strode ahead, clearly remembering the route back to the house with little difficulty.

Villanelle looked impressed when Eve revealed her packet of bacon. And then drew out a bunch of bananas and a packet of strawberries.

“When did you even…” Eve gaped at her.

“When we first walked in. Granny clothes are reeeeeally good for shop lifting.” She retrieved an onion from the inside pocket of the tweed jacket. “What? We don’t want to die of scurvy while we’re dying of boredom.”

“Stay nourished.” Eve laughed.

“Exactly.” Villanelle nodded and popped a strawberry in her mouth as she started whisking up batter.

Eve put the bacon in the fridge, along with the remaining eggs. She was faintly surprised that she wasn’t feeling more horrified that she’d just been shoplifting. For the second time in 12 hours no less. Instead there was just a sense of smug satisfaction at not having to eat any more of those damn dry cornflakes. 

“Here.” Villanelle threw a bag of coffee at her.

Eve caught it in her fingertips, staring at Villanelle in amazement. “Did you manage to snag a French press in there at the same time?”

“No. There’s one in the top right-hand cupboard.” Villanelle pointed at it with the whisk.

“Oh.” Eve took it down, boiled the kettle and made a pot. It smelled good. Rich. Better than instant at any rate.

She turned to watch Villanelle cut off a chunk of lard (and where the hell had that come from?) and drop it into the hot frying pan.

“I can’t believe you stole all this.” The absurdity of the situation overtook Eve. “You really couldn’t have just had the cornflakes?”

“I can’t believe you thought I would be interrogated “by people far scarier” without having a decent last meal. Oof. It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“Are you scared?” Eve poured out a cup of coffee and placed it on the side by Villanelle.

Villanelle took a deep breath and poured batter into the pan. “I don’t want to go back to prison again. It’s boring.”

“Do you even know anything about the Twelve?” She took a sip of her own coffee, eyes narrowing in pleasure at the better taste.

“Not really. You probably know more than me. I wasn’t interested. They gave me a nice life and fun work. I didn’t care about more than that.” Villanelle watched the batter slowly cook, the turner hovering in mid-air, waiting for the precise moment. “You said you would’ve come for me. Would’ve gotten me out.”

“Yeah.” Eve leant against the side, looking at Villanelle out the corner of her eye. She didn’t seem nervous or tense. She was frowning slightly but that seemed more in concentration, as she flipped the pancake.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is a reference to what you think it is
> 
> the chapter titles are all quotes from waiting for godot


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